The Adventures of Sarah and Mr Owl
by sakura-charmed
Summary: Sequel to Mr. Owl. What would happen if Little Sarah had said the words, and was whisked away to the Goblin City where she meets new friends and encounters new experiences? A lot of fun, for sure.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Labyrinth is not mine

Hello! Well, here it is! The sequel of Mr. Owl! Homework is not that tough this week and I was able to post this. I hope that it meets your expectations!

Mr. Owl is pretty much canon, but this one deviates from the movie. It focuses on Little Sarah and what would have happened if she had wished herself away to the goblins.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed One Last Time! I was very happy to know that you liked it. Hope that you'll like this one too!

* * *

_Oh where, oh where has my little owl gone?_

_Oh where, oh where can he be?_

_With his eyes mismatched and his feathers all brown,_

_Oh where, oh where can he be?_

* * *

She was running away yet again.

In the part of her mind not preoccupied with avoiding ravaging cars and tumultuous crowds, Sarah wondered if she was doomed to flee for the rest of her days. If life carried on like this, if her every prayer continued to fall on deaf ears, there was no doubt about it.

A passer-by pushed passed the little girl, knocking her to the cold gravel road. In his haste, he did not turn back to see if she was all right or maybe he didn't really care. A recklessly speeding vehicle swerved to avoid her, its inebriated driver yelling expletives in her way.

Sarah gingerly wobbled back to the sidewalk, nursing a scraped knee, her breath expelled out of her lungs from the fall, but that was not on her mind at the moment. The obstreperous cacophony of the late evening town was very confounding. The uneven, clashing sounds muddled her perception and the ability to think straight had abandoned her. The only thought she had registered was that she had no idea where she was.

_Lost. _She was completely and utterly, _lost._

A queasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, as she tried to discern her current location. A portly cop stood nearby, munching on a much needed snack, and a box of warm doughnuts nestled safely in his arms.

She shied away from him, ambling on the opposite path. 'Mr. Policeman, sir' was the last thing she needed now; he would only bring her back to where she started from. 'Mr. Policeman' won't understand – she had learned long ago that adults never did. He couldn't possibly comprehend the reason she 'ran away,' or why she was so determined to reach her destination.

More importantly, he would never agree with her that the ultimate weapon of destruction man can ever dream of had already been created, and had existed long before he invented anything else: _words._

Words had always held a perennial sway over the course of events in History – they had created or destroyed kingdoms, started or ended wars, and broadly, somehow responsible for why the present is as it is. Long, panegyric words of extolment can effortlessly win those who easily wield to flattery, while a few carelessly thrown phrases can break the spirit of the tender-hearted. Speech was a prerogative more oftenly misused than not.

Sarah knew that some words shouldn't be taken too seriously especially when they are said in a moment of anger. But why do they still hurt so much?

Surely her mother didn't mean it when she said that she didn't want to see her again? Mothers are supposed to love their children no matter what. Yet her mind was cruelly replaying the things her mummy had said over and over again. Mummy didn't seem to love her when she said that.

"Mummy? Mummy, may I leave?" Sarah remembered asking. "I'll only be gone for a while."

Her mother, who had been entertaining herself by blowing smoke rings in the air with her cigarette, suddenly threw her wineglass on the wall, managing to shatter it to a million pieces.

Sarah stared at the crimson liquid which was slowly dripping on the carpet, relieved that the fragile glassware was not hurled in her direction. Would her blood mingling with the wine make the red stand out more?

"I couldn't care less," her mother had slurred, the alcohol in her system impairing her speech. "Who would want a stupid mute child like you anyway?"

It's just the wine. The wine was talking, not her mummy. Mummy _loves _her.

Linda Williams staggered to the counter, pouring herself another drink. Holding her cigarette between her teeth, she rummaged through her diamond-studded purse.

"Here," she said, tossing a handful of coins at Sarah's feet.

Sarah had stared at the floor uncomprehendingly and back at her.

"Are you deaf as well as deaf?" Linda demanded. "Leave! I don't want to see you again. I don't have a daughter as stupid as you."

Tears prickled at the back of her eyes. Sarah had only meant to drop by the drug store to see if she could get her mother a remedy for hang – hang-over? Was it called hang over? She couldn't understand why it was not called 'hang-after'; the sickness happened right after drinking, right? Those 'hang-overs' were really nasty from what she heard.

Sarah stared at the fistful of coins in her hand. There was barely enough money to buy a loaf of bread but she didn't want it. She knew it was foolish, but somehow, she thought that by spending it to satiate her own needs, it would be admitting defeat; that she was finally believing that her mother didn't love her anymore.

Had she been a bad little girl? Sarah made sure to eat her vegetables and followed her bedtime. Maybe her mother stopped loving her because the law books chucked at her hovered mysteriously in the air before landing softly on the ground. Or maybe it was because the bullies now seldomly teased her and were frequently talking about 'goblin nightmares,'

Sarah didn't have anything to do with it, swear! She was just walking around when the pile of sickly green goo fell out of nowhere on top of Melissa and Joanna, two of her classmates who had pushed her down the mud puddle prior to that. They smelled really bad afterwards. She knew nothing of the little blue worn which plopped on Anthony's sandwich, the boy who enjoyed pulling her hair.

Sarah had to smile at that. He had screamed shriller than a girl, which seemed very pointless since the odd worm ignored him and curled up on itself, comfortable on the still-warm sandwich. There were other tricks, though they were harmless. Nevertheless, the victims of the pranks had complained to their parents, blaming Sarah for the incidents, and thus landing her in a lot of hot water. No matter how hard she told them that she was innocent, they hadn't believed her.

She had no proof, but Sarah had a sneaking suspicion that the snickers which always followed her were responsible.

She looked around, vastly relieved to see that her aimless wanderings landed her in more familiar surroundings.

The sun was preparing for its nocturnal slumber, its august rays painting the sky a florid red-orange and promising that it will come back tomorrow. She liked the way shadows slunk out from where they came from, summoned by the slanted shafts of light. And along the streets, people pass by as if they hadn't noticed.

She wrinkled her brow in thought. Maybe they did not. Adults seem too busy to observe the little, nonsensical things that make the world beautiful. A thing needs to have sense in order for them to pay attention to it.

Something caught her eye at which she grinned, finally finding a way to release the money her mother had given her without actually spending it. Skipping cheerfully, she stopped in front of a dimly lit alley and gazed with solemnity at the person occupying it.

"Here ya go, lady miss," she said, dropping the coins in the empty plastic cup. Her stomach grumbled lightly in protest. She hoped that nice lady with the baby did not hear it.

It made Sarah's heart swell when the woman's grimy face split into a broad smile. No one smiled at her nowadays. The infant sleeping in the lady's arms stirred and cracked open an unfocused eye.

"Bless you, dear child."

Sarah nodded and turned to leave, anxious to get away. The poor lady reminded her so much of her own mother when daddy was still with them. She couldn't help but feel resentful, for the baby was so lucky to have a caring mother.

"Little girl! Wait!" Fumbling around the pockets of her frayed garments, the mother brought out a small object, thrusting it into her companion's small hands.

It was a bracelet. The plastic stones were cool against her palm, and Sarah closed her fingers upon it.

"Oh no, lady miss. It's yours; I can't possibly accept it –"

"It was given to me by a friend once," she winked. "It's time I give it to one of my own friends. Who knows? Maybe one day, you'll bestow it to one of your own."

Sarah stared at the bracelet which was fastened to her wrist. _Friend._ The lady had called her a _friend._ And someday, Sarah is going to give it to one of her own friends, too!

To whom should she give it? There was this nice old lady at the bakery who always talked to her and gave a free piece of pastry whenever she stopped by. There was Mr. Walters, the old man next door who had lost his beloved granddaughter. "Me fault, me fault the lass's gone," he said sadly when she had asked about her. He was lonely, living in the cold, damp house all by himself, so Sarah would often visit. The neighbors would say that Mr. Walters was cranky and unpleasant, but the little girl thought that anyone would be cranky if they had 'roo-matism' in their legs and needed a hot water bottle at nighttime before going to bed. He was really nice when he talked to her. He had been a chef, and Sarah especially liked the custard creams he made.

And of course, there was her very special friend.

She stopped, noticing that she had arrived at the park. By now, the sun had completely set, and the flashes of lightning warned her that it was not going to be a quiet night.

Had it really been a year since she had met her little feathery acquaintance? It seemed longer than that. She wanted to see him again, but she never did. There were times when she heard the rustle of wings, or a low hoot, at which she would turn around and look, but find no one there.

She sat in the shade of the oak near the glade, the tree which had often comforted her before. This was the place where she first met Mr. Owl; would he come tonight to comfort her?

The oak tree would not judge her, so she allowed the tears to fall from her stinging eyes, burying her face in her hands. A minute had passed, and she looked up, half expecting to see someone there.

There was no one.

It seems to Sarah as if everyone who grew to like her all eventually left, either by choice or by force. First one who ever did was her mother. The person at home wearing her mummy's clothes and looked like Mummy was not her Mummy. Mummy was kind, and kissed her goodnight, and she won't ever hurl a wineglass at the wall or drive little Sarah away.

Mummy left when Daddy went to a 'vacation.' Sarah did not understand: if Daddy went away for a vacation why was he taking the lady who likes pinching Sarah's cheeks with him? Shouldn't he be taking Mummy instead? Mummy looks like she needed a break – she had so many shows and interviews that she barely got any sleep.

The lady at the bakery store left, as well. Even though she had promised Sarah that she would come back, Sarah did not know whether the lady is as good as her word. Mummy and Daddy once promised her that they would never leave, but what happened to that promise?

Mummy had forbidden her to visit Mr. Walters. She said that it was improper for a little girl to visit an old man. Sarah missed him, and the stories he told about his granddaughter who was a lot like her and was well liked. The last thing Sarah had heard is that Mr. Walters had a heart attack and was in the hospital, and she had no way of knowing if he was still alive.

_Gone. _They were all _gone._

"Are you gone too, Mr. Owl?" she whispered sadly. "Were you just a piece of my imagination?" If he indeed was real, he was no better than the adults who left her. She instantly felt guilty when she thought that. Mr. Owl had been nothing but kind to her, and gave her a very nice book.

The wind hummed a dolorous tune, urging the trees to dance along. Overhead, the skies rumbled its disquietude, clouds threatened to flood the earth. But there was no Mr. Owl who came to her in moments of distress, no one to tell her that it was all right.

She bowed her head in resignation.

Sarah took out a little worn leather bound book and stared at its cover.

_The Labyrinth. _Did she dare hope that such a place exists? Sarah didn't know what was real and what was not anymore. Reality and Fantasy appeared to converge at some point. She had once believed that parents, both mothers and fathers, had no capacity to dislike their children, and that the cruelties little boys and girls experienced were only seen in books, but that did not seem to be true now. One thing she was sure of is that happy endings only belong to fairytale heroes.

Last year, she had been reluctant to say the words for hope still kindled its ebbing flame in her heart. Now that Mr. Owl was gone, the hopefulness was disappeared, too, replaced by a gnawing despair whose magnitude was slowly eroding her already fragile trust.

She had nowhere else to go.

"I wish that the goblins would come and take me away…right now."

* * *

What do you think? Please review!

Unfortunately, our long tests is scheduled next week, and followed by another round of exams, so I will be pretty busy. Wish me luck! If I do well, I will post the next chapter quickly.

I've got a dilemna: What age should little Sarah be? Five? Eight? And what should she call Jareth? It will not be rude if she called him by his first name, right? What mischiefs and troubles would a little girl wreak in the Labyrinth? Please tell me what you think. Suggestions are welcome. Thank you!

* * *

Chapter two:

_"You're him, are you? You're the Goblin King!"_


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! I'm really, really sorry that this had taken so long! The long tests were okay, but I'd rather not talk about the exams. And schoolwork is piling up!

Anyway, most of you people said that Sarah should be six or seven, so in this story, she would be six going on seven. Thank you too for your suggestions, and your reviews, which had served as my inspiration. Please continue reviewing!

I'm not really that fond of OCs, and I don't like it when they usurp the main characters from their positions, or look MarySu-ish, but I need them here in order for the story to work.

On with the story!

* * *

_Girl and owl went up the knoll_

_To see the Goblin City_

_Owl flew down upon his town_

_And girl came running quickly_

* * *

Lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and giant pelts of rain fell down from the sky. The light from a nearby lamppost flickered and died, catapulting her into instant darkness. She hadn't meant to sound like a petulant child, though maybe an enraged god heard her and had sent his displeasure thru rain.

Sarah started to shiver, not at all caused by the cold water seeping through her clothes. She drew her knees up, propping her head on them. It was dark. Sarah was afraid of the dark. The shadows were not friendly – she can imagine them dogging her, and whisking her away to their realm when her guard was down. Mummy didn't want her to have a nightlight in her room to keep the dark away – she said that six year old girls have no reason to be afraid of it.

She usually liked rain; for it washes everything away. The world seems so much cleaner after a thunderstorm, so much brighter. The trees sway merrily, remembering how good the sun's warm rays feel against their leaves. Animals' noses poke out from their shelters, seeing it safe to frolic in the woods once again.

But this kind of rain was not meant to cleanse the world. No, it was for a completely different reason why the heavens were weeping saturnine tears right now.

Someone was coming.

The forest was getting restless; sensing something which did not belonged there. The trees stirred, lugubriously swaying and escalating to a frenetic rhythm as if warning everyone who valued their lives to hide. An unseen dog howled vindictively at the hidden moon, furious at its cowardice.

Terror rose in her chest, making her heart race, and planting the deleterious seed of panic in her mind. She shut her eyes, praying to whoever is listening that whatever it was is not coming for her and wishing for it to stop.

As soon as she thought it, water ceased to fall, as if someone up in the skies had suddenly turned off a faucet. She looked up, and became more surprised at what she saw.

In a swirl of scintillating glitter appeared the oddest dressed man Sarah had ever laid eyes on.

He looked like a cross between a medieval prince and a performer she had seen on television once. Messy, white-blond hair splayed onto an elegant, sequined cape with a very stiff collar. He stood regally, his frilled shirt was spotless, but what caught her eye and made her breath catch was the pair of luminous orbs which were staring back at her.

Sarah was sure that she had seen those eyes on another before.

"You're him, aren't you?" she asked in wonderment. "You're the Goblin King!"

He made no reply, but Sarah had a steadfast belief that silence meant yes.

"You are!" Forgetting her current predicament, she got up to her feet. He was so tall! The top of her head barely reached his waist. She deflated, remembering something her mother had told her. "I'm sorry, Mr. Goblin King, sir. My mummy said that I'm suppos'd to talk to strangers, espec'lly to people in funny clothing."

He raised a questioning eyebrow, and she fiddled her hands in the folds of her dress, afraid that she had offended him.

"You are talking to me now, aren't you, Sarah?"

He spoke in a strange clipped tone, putting a stress on the last syllables. The accent was hard to place, though she liked it very much.

"Well, yes, Mr. King, sir," she agreed. Her eyes widened upon realizing something. "How-how did you know my name?"

He gave a little half-smile.

"I've been watching you for a long time now."

She frowned at that. If he was watching her, how come she didn't see him? Didn't he want to play with her? She was lonely.

"Really? Do you watch other children too, sir?"

"Not everyone."

The sky was slowly clearing, and the moon was cautiously peeking out from behind foggy clouds, wondering if the tempest was over. Stars enkindled their fervid lights once more.

Sarah peered up at the Goblin King anxiously.

"I don't wanna be rude, Mr. King," she began timidly. "Why are you here?"

He smirked, amused with a joke only he can understand. She saw that the tips of his teeth were very pointy. Her pulse raced. If she would say 'What big teeth you have,' would he say 'The better to eat you with!' ?

As if reading her thoughts, he laughed, which did nothing to placate her fear only serving to heighten it more.

"You know the answer to that question, Sarah. You called me."

Sarah stared at him with wide eyes. "I did?" Then she remembered. _I wish that the Goblins would take me away…right now! _Her stomach dropped. "But-but what if I hadn't meant it, sir?"

He crossed his arms, and she became worried if she angered him.

"What is said, is said. Tell me, Sarah. Do you really want to stay here?"

She stared at him blankly, then directed her gaze at the surroundings. The forest was slowly drying itself up after its sudden shower. In the distance, she could view a solitary light burning brightly in the night, and she wondered if it belonged to her house. Was Mummy upstairs in her room, crying over her things, and wishing for her daughter to come back?

Somehow, she didn't think so. It was hard picturing her mummy regretting her words and actions. In her mind's eye, she can see her mother throwing wineglasses on the walls and waiting impatiently for the guy who liked playing loud music. But Sarah knew that Mummy would forgive him and lavish him attention, when she would spare her daughter none.

No. She didn't want to stay here.

"You can always go back if you wish," he said, noticing her reluctance.

Sarah returned her gaze at him. "Really? How?"

He extended an arm in invitation, doing it slowly so he would not scare her.

"Say the right words, of course."

His proffered hand hovered in mid-air, and without a backward glance, she took it.

Mummy needed time – Sarah realized that she wasn't the only one afraid of the shadows; even adults get scared, too. Mummy needed to fight with the shadows alone. And when Mummy was ready, her little daughter will be waiting for her.

* * *

When darkness had removed its doleful veil upon her eyes, Sarah found out that she was standing on a hill.

But it wasn't the knoll which held her spellbound, nor was it her silent companion standing beside her, though he was equally fascinating as well. It was more of the sight right before her eyes.

"The labyrinth," she whispered breathlessly.

She sensed, rather than see the Goblin King giving a small nod of agreement.

Fiery, orange skies kissed the cool, earthly ground in a faraway horizon. She was convinced that this place had a younger sun – never had the sun shined that bright yellow from where she came. Looking below, she viewed the maze itself. The labyrinth stretched infinitely in four directions, so huge that she was not able to see the edges of it. The maze apparently had a mind and will of its own, for it constantly moved without any aid. Shadows darted in and out of the dark corners, warning her that however beautiful it was, the labyrinth possessed secrets to be left alone.

"It's beautiful, Mr. Goblin King, sir," she said truthfully, turning to look at him.

Earlier, she had not seen any emotion on his face, save for amusement, but now he was staring at the maze with an expression which reminded the little girl of her father when he used to look at his daughter.

Sarah returned back to the labyrinth. It was too early to tell yet, but she hoped that one day, he would look at her just like that. She would do her best to earn it.

"It is," he said softly. "Come."

In another swirl of glitter, they were standing at the city gates. The swift change of scenery was slightly disorienting, but the awe overrode it.

Doubling her pace to catch up with his, Sarah tried to look at everywhere at once. It was aptly named 'Goblin City," for those creatures were at any place she cared to see. Although, the girl found out that not everyone were goblins. There were exotic animals, unknown beings, and –she thought a tad anxiously – children.

A boy about her age ran up, bouncing up and down in excitement and said, "Mama look! There she is! I can see her!"

"Hush, Toby," his mother scolded him. "His Majesty is near."

Toby ignored her and ran towards another direction instead.

"You're so pretty!" he said to a reddening Sarah, making her stop in her tracks. Giving an admiring smile, he handed her a flower and ran away before she can say thank you.

"Sarah."

The girl gave a start, realizing that she had fallen back and the Goblin King was looking at her, crossing his arms impatiently. Sarah smiled sheepishly, and tucking the flower behind her ear, she hurried to catch up.

Sarah had seen pictures of castles before, but they paled in comparison with the real one. The pictures failed to capture the way flags flutter in the breeze from their distinguished positions on top of towers and turrets. The images forgot to notice how the sun caressed the stone walls, making the moss and lichen clinging to them greener. And in her books, she didn't have to squint to tell how high the castles were. Most of all, the drawings lacked the essence that the one in front of her possessed in abundance: life.

The interior, if it was possible, was even grander. Lavish tapestries depicting different sceneries hung from white marble walls, and royal blue carpets stretched on the floor. Servants bustled about, bowing and curtseying when the king passed their way and eyeing Sarah curiously, which made her look at the floor to avoid their probing eyes.

She lost track of where they were going as she watched the Goblin King's even, fluid strides, making his cloak billow. Sarah would not be surprised if he knew how many steps to take, so precise his movements were.

"Sarah,"

She halted in mid-step, hearing her named called and almost barreling at the person she was following. Wondering why they stopped, she raised her head.

An ornately carved door was in front of them, and a portly middle-aged woman stood beside it.

"This is Rosalie," he introduced. Rosalie turned to her and curtseyed, smiling kindly. "She will be taking care of you during the duration of your stay here. You may ask her to assist you in anything you might require, as long as it is within her capability."

He inclined his head and walked away.

"Wait!"

The Goblin King turned to look at her, eyebrow raised in question.

Sarah flushed, realizing it was very rude to order a King.

"What is your name, Mr. Goblin King, sir?"

He stared at her for a moment before replying. "Jareth."

It suited him.

"Thank you, Mr… Jareth," she said softly.

She might have imagined the cold glint in his eyes soften when he left.

* * *

His even, matched pace quickened as he sped across the halls of his castle, grimly satisfied to see the gossiping servants cower. They were right to be afraid – the Bog of Eternal Stench was not created for the sake of decoration.

Kicking a passing goblin with the toe of his boot just to hear him squeal, the Goblin King pushed the ancient doors of the library open.

Ignoring the scent of musty books which assimilated his senses once he entered, he made straight to his store of liquor, pouring himself a drink of the strongest alcohol he could find.

Immediately, warmth spread throughout his body. Ah, that was better.

Sitting down leisurely, he pushed back his chair to balance on its back legs, raising his boots on his desk, propriety be damned. He was king. No one was there.

He looked down disinterestedly at the papers which flitted to the floor and scattered on his table. Ah, paperwork. The downside to an otherwise perfect job of being a king. No matter. Maybe he could coax Eldred to do it later on. Maybe.

He took another sip of his drink. The rain Aboveground earlier had been relentless, and the little girl he had come to fetch looked so lost – what had happened to her. If he knew what pity was, he would have felt it for her.

But there was no mistaking about what he had seen in her vulnerably open face. The expression in it was not fear, as he had anticipated; nor was it sadness.

It had been affection.

He laughed bitterly, morbidly wondering how fast the admiration in her eyes would fade the moment she knew what being the Goblin King entitled. Shame. It would be nice to have someone admire you.

"So the rumors are true."

Jareth stared at the arrival blankly, having expected his visit. There was only one person who dared to disturb the Goblin King's privacy.

An elderly man in outrageously colorful robes and a long, white beard walked to where the Goblin King was sitting. If Sarah was present, she would have thought that it was Merlin himself, so uncanny his resemblance with the mighty wizard in her books.

He looked pointedly at the feet on the table, which Jareth ignored, raising a challenging eyebrow. It was his _desk._ He could do whatever he wanted with it.

The old man sighed, knowing how stubborn the Goblin King was. He sat at a nearby chair, waiting for the other to reply. When it was clear that Jareth was not going to speak soon, he prompted, "On my way here, I had passed several groups of servants who, instead of working, were deeply immersed in conversations about the heir apparent finally coming. I take it that these idle chatters were founded on veritable facts?"

No answer. He thought it was obvious.

"Ilona won't be pleased, Jareth," he warned. "She had been hoping that you will choose her daughter. There is no doubt that she will be very vocal about this."

"Let the harpy talk, Eldred," the King growled. "She won't be able to change my mind on this topic."

He silently offered a drink, which Eldred declined.

"What are you going to do now?"

The hand pouring out a drink stilled, as the Goblin King turned the bottle upright, mulling upon how to answer without making him a fool.

"My plan has not taken me this far," he admitted. "I had not expected things to work so swiftly. Certain events have happened in which I have no knowledge of."

Silence descended on them, each wrapped up in different thoughts.

The little lady is in a new environment and most likely is bewildered about it," Eldred began, standing to leave. "Give her time to adjust. After that, she's going to require an education."

He had almost reached the door when he turned to him again.

"Although right now, all Sarah needs is a friend," he said, looking at him meaningfully. "I know for a fact that she would dearly love to see her little feathery acquaintance, to assure her that what is happening is real. Her friend would benefit, too. He would learn about the 'certain things to which he had no knowledge of ' "

Giving a satirical bow, he departed, leaving the library's lone occupant in his thoughts.

* * *

After being bathed and dressed, Sarah was beginning to feel drowsy. Her eyelids drooped and she stifled a yawn, wanting to explore her new room. Rosalie however had seen her signs of drowsiness.

"You don't fool me one bit, Little Sarah!" she said, the crow's feet deepening around her eyes when she smiled. "It's off to bed with you, Little One!"

"But Miss Rosalie, ma'am, I'm not sleepy yet!" Earlier, they had come to an agreement that she would call her that.

Her proud declaration was proven false when she gave a huge yawn.

"No buts, young lady. You need your rest!"

"But-"

"A growing girl like you needs all the sleep she can get," Rosalie said sternly, though humor was still dancing in her kind, brown eyes.

Sarah blinked back tears, reminded of how many times her mother used to tell her that.

The old woman, with her honed mothering skills, sensed a change in her charge's mood.

"Is there something wrong, my dear?" she asked worriedly.

Sarah stared at her. "Nothing," she replied softly. "Is this really my room, Miss Rosalie, ma'am?"

"Well of course it is, silly! You don't see other little girls here, do you?"

Sarah shook her head slowly, a warm feeling in her chest. It was _hers._ There was no former little girl shivering in the cold outside who once owned this room. She beamed.

Rosalie beamed back, happy to see that whatever was bothering her charge was gone. "Now that we've settled it, there's no escaping bedtime, young lady."

The little girl padded noiselessly towards the bed, and lied down on the soft sheets, her caretaker arranging the blankets to cover her.

"Good night, Miss Rosalie, ma'am."

"Good night to you too, Little Sarah, miss. Sleep tight," she placed a kiss upon her forehead. What a polite little girl, she thought, gazing down fondly at the small occupant of the bed. The king has made the right decision to choose her.

Whatever was lighting the room diminished, until the Moon was the solitary source of light illuminating her area. Sarah heard the door softly click open and shut, signaling that Rosalie had left the room.

So many things happened today, she thought dreamily, closing her eyes. Who would've thought that all of those fantastical creatures actually existed? Her classmates would've laughed if she told them about this. Not that she was going to, though. Magic has let her in on her secret, and there was no way that Sarah would break the trust placed on her.

She snuggled deeply in her covers. None of this would have happened if it were not for that fateful day a year ago.

Oh, where could you be, little friend?

Sarah suddenly bolted upright, detecting a noise she desperately wanted to hear. As if summoned by her thoughts, there he was, perched elegantly on her windowsill.

"Mr. Owl!"

* * *

What do you think? Please Review!

Mr. Owl finally makes his grand appearance! Why does the Goblin King require an heir? Who is Ilona? Find out on the next chapter!

* * *

_Chapter 3:_

_"I thought you had left me, Mr. Owl."_


	3. Chapter 3

Hello! I'm really, extremely sorry that this had taken so long. I had a bad cold, and life interfered with leisure. I still can't believe the pile of homework I had been buried in! I hope that my delay hasn't made you lose interest in my story. Please review! The more reviews the quicker the update! By the way I only update during weekends. Sorry if it's a little short.

I see no harm in answering reviews, and it isn't against the Guidelines or anything (I've checked it) so here ya go:

**samuraistar: **thanks for that! I had been wondering who to base Eldred on, and I kinda forgot about the 'really old guy with the chicken hat.' I'll make him more 'humanoid' though.

**The Mad Maiden: **I think Sarah is cute, too! Thanks for liking the building up of the plot.

**13figureskater-Draco'sgirl:** I totally agree with you! If exams are personified, I would imagine them cracking a whip and laughing maniacally while ordering students to melt their brains. But my schoolwork's getting better, I think. Thanks for the concern!

**notwritten: **Thanks for your review! Keep smiling too! Hey that rhymes!

**Natsuko37: **Thanks for your support! I'm glad that the OCs are okay. Thanks too for saying that Little Sarah is sweet and adorable. I wish other children were like her. My three-year old sister, for instance. She may be cute, but all adults are wrapped around her little finger and boy, does she she know it!

**dragoneyes171986: **Thanks for liking Mr. Owl! Well, here's another chapter!

**Dr.Pepperz: **wow, you get commercials about tootsie rolls? how come we never get those? all we have are about some detergent soaps or something. How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop? Thanks and sorry for the delay!

**.Beckoning.Disaster. : **I'm sorry for the delay! Thanks! The term 'Mr. Owl' just came to me when I decided to watch the Labyrinth movie again.

**Gotta Dance 88: **Actually, I can't decide yet. Should Ilona be a former lover or a relative? I can see both ends working out but, I'm not sure. Thanks for the review!

**Kore-of-Myth: **Wow, you've really got an eye out for detail, haven't you? 'Toby' is not a random name, or a random person-he would make an appearance later on. I actually haven't decided yet. Should Ilona be a former lover or a sister? What do you think? I love JxS stories, and anything's possible here. If the idea of Sarah ending up with him gets positive remarks, I might make a sequel or something when she's all grown up. Maybe. Probably. I don't know.

* * *

_Mr. Owl, Mr. Owl_

_What did you find? _

_The castle was warm_

_And the people were kind_

_The King was so stately_

_I sat very near_

_And decided to wait_

_for the girl __to appear_

* * *

"Mr. Owl!"

Sarah blinked and rubbed her eyes. She blinked and rubbed them again, pinching her arm for good measure. When she felt it hurt and the apparition before her didn't disappear, she gave a yelp of joy.

"Mr. Owl! It really is you!"

Sarah got up and scrambled out of bed, only to trip and get tangled in the sheets and rolled onto the floor. Peeking from beneath her blankets, she saw the owl watch her amusedly.

"I'm so glad you're having fun at my expense, Your Majesty," she huffed in indignation. "Please lend me a hand, will you?"

Sarah was sure that she heard the owl snicker.

"Oh, that's right! You don't have any hands!" Picking through the cloths, she finally found the head and the tail of it. Pulling them apart, she happily stepped out of the mess.

The other occupant in the room barely moved a muscle, amusement gone and was in a somber mood again. Hesitantly, she approached the owl and sat down on a wooden stool near her window.

"I can't believe that you're really here, Mr. Owl," Sarah said softly, content to watch her friend. The moon embellished him more than the sun could have – his white feathers and the pristine rays merged with one another until you aren't able to tell which was which, while his russet-colored wings dimmed and mingled in the shadows. His eyes were luminous in the dark, like blue-brown brooches on a vespertine dress, and it struck her to notice that he had the same eyes as Jareth. He was a creature of the night; yet mysteriously had taken a liking to her, a child of the day. Sarah wasn't bothered by these strange occurrence – what mattered to her was that he was there with her when nobody would have.

"I thought you have left me for good," she added sadly, putting her hands on the sides of her chair and kicking her dangling legs which were not long enough to touch the floor. She felt bad at doubting her friend's promise to return, but no one can blame her. She didn't have many friends to base on after all.

"Oh, it's been so horrible!" she returned her gaze to her silent companion, tears glistening in her eyes, silently pleading him to erase the bed things that had happened. "If you were wondering how I ended up here, Mr. Owl, I did not run away. Mummy was sad because daddy left. She-she told me-"-she choked out a sob- "She told me that she didn't want me anymore!"

Sarah slumped forward in her seat, resting her head upon her hands on the windowpane, wordlessly staring at the idyllic near-slumbering village. Children darted in and out of all corners, their worried mothers closely following and calling them to bed. Soon the lights from each of the houses faded one by one, until the silver rays of the moon bathed everything in ethereal glow, making the place even more beautiful.

She sighed. It was so nice to finally get her worry out of her chest. She felt infinitely better afterwards. It was as if someone had put a colorful sticker caller 'band-aid' and kissed it.

The though made her smile. Sarah remembered the time she fell off her bike. It had hurt so much, but Mummy had made the pain go away.

"Mummy didn't mean it, Mr. Owl," Her companion gave an owl's equivalent of a disbelieving snort, which she pointedly ignored. "Grown-ups don't really mean the things they say when they are drinking the nasty stuff called 'likor.' They are too dizzy and ev'rything's too jumbly for them to think straight. One of these days, Mr. Owl, Mummy will want me back with her again."

Her unwavering, naïve faith for a better tomorrow would aid her triumph, though it could also be the instrument of her defeat as well , the owl mused. The world was far from the rose-tinted view she had of it, and it would crush her terribly if she knew.

"I still have it, Mr. Owl," Sarah said, breaking through his thoughts. The owl swerved his eyes to meet hers, though her gaze was locked at the silent world before her. "The book, I mean. I keep it with me wherever I go."

She brought it out from her pocket for her friend to see, placing it at near him.

"Who would've thought that ev'rything in it was real," she smiled faintly. " I knew that you were no ordinary owl, Mr. Owl."

She gave a yawn, reminding them both of the lateness of the hour.

"I'll just lie for a minute, Mr. Owl," she said, resting her head on her hands again, her eyes drooping in fatigue. "You'll be here for me, won't you Mr. Owl? You'll protect me from the dark…"

Her words faded out as she blissfully entered the realm of slumber and dreams.

* * *

Riding on the cool night air was the sweet lullaby of the world in deep sleep – the soft croons of robins finally getting their rest after gathering their bits of twine and twig were heard, along with the mewling snores of a variety of animals curled up in their shelters. The merry chirping of an insomniac cricket echoed throughout the land, only to be hushed by a rustle from the forest. In the light of the moon, the silhouette of two figures can be seen.

He watched her stoically, long after Morpheus has claimed her to his world. Starlight played shadows upon her young, expressive face, her lips curled in a small smile. She looked…contented, for the lack of a better term. Although resting her arms and head on the cold marble stone of the windowsill with her back hunched seemed not the most comfortable position.

Without realizing it, he brushed back a curl of night-black hair, jerking back his hand as soon as his senses took over again. What was he doing? He had no plans of taking an heir, really – he was quite capable of running the kingdom himself, thank you. But his _dear_ mother had coerced him to do it. And since he had no intention whatsoever of taking one of those simpering, two-faced noblewomen as his wife to bear his heir…

That left him to take one of the Unwanted.

He looked at her and resisted the urge to sigh. Her parents –both of them – were fools. Hadn't they realized what other people would give up just to have a child like her? He knew from experience how bratty and annoying children could be. Marigold, Ilona's daughter, alone was…_impossible._ He didn't know what a little girl would do with an army of warrior horses, a wardrobe which was probably as expensive as all the wages he paid his workers all together in a two lifetimes, and other ridiculous, profligate baubles he did not care to name. If Sarah was a bit like her, he wouldn't even have considered divulging to her the secret of his world. Thankfully, she was not.

He stared at her again. She was sure to ache all over the next morning if she slept like that all night. Telling himself that he didn't want a cranky child roaming his castle was the sole reason and didn't –heaven forbid – care for her, he scooped her in his arms, taking care not to jostle her awake and placed her on the bed.

She looked so small and vulnerable in the humongous thing, the quilt appearing to drown her in their depth. The girl started to fidget; her breathing quickened, and grew restless in her sleep. A frown wrinkled her brow, and he found it quite disturbing to see it on the normally jovial little face. Wondering what he ought to do, he was about to call Rosalie when the solution presented itself to him.

Flicking his wrist, an object materialized in his hand. In his line of work, he had discovered that most children derived comfort from stuffed animals, and never slept without it.

Placing it at her side, he watched in satisfaction as she calmed and hugged it closer to her.

Realizing what he had done, he scowled in self-reproach.

_Damn. He was getting soft._

* * *

Golden bolts of sunshine penetrated her eyelids, but Sarah kept her eyes closed, refusing to join the robust land of the Awake. Instead, she snuggled deeper in her bed, rolling over and putting the blanket over her head to keep the light out.

What a wonderful dream! In it, she had dreamt that everything in the Labyrinth book was real and Mr. Owl had actually visited her again.

Somewhere, a clock chimed another hour. Pretty soon, she had to see if Mummy was awake and hope that the 'hang-over' was gone or else Mummy would be extremely temperamental. A cranky Mummy is really scary. She might throw something harder than a wineglass.

Wineglass! She sat up straighter and gaped.

Sarah was in the quaintest room she had ever been in. The walls were shaded with soft tones of pastel pink with white borders, and the spreads of the bed a hue lighter. Shelves of toys and books which were more than she ever had in her life stood at the far side of a corner where it was easily accessible. The light which was blinding her earlier had been reflected by the mirror of a dresser directly opposite one of the windows on her right, where the merry breeze was entering and cajoling the curtains to dance. The furniture was made of a deep, rich brown wood, decorated with intricate carvings of fantastical creatures.

She frowned in thought. The last thing she had remembered was falling asleep on the windowsill. She had no recollection of being able to drag her sleepy self to bed. Somehow, her friend had taken care of her, and it warmed her heart. She really should give him something in return.

She noticed the soft thing she was clutching to her chest – a teddy bear. The stuffing poked out from one of its missing ears, only a single, shiny brown eye stared back at her unflinchingly, and the red ribbon tied around its neck was faded. Though a little frayed and worn, Sarah instantly loved him. Something about it attracted her. She was just contemplating what she should call him when she heard a soft knock.

Rosalie peeked in and brightened up when she saw the occupant in the room was awake.

"Good morning, Miss Rosalie, ma'am," Sarah greeted politely.

"Good morning to you too, Little Sarah." After returning her smile, Rosalie proceeded to bustle about, straightening the cushions on the couch at the hearth of the fireplace, and throwing open more windows. Rosalie reminded her of a hassled mother hen who did not want to be caught idle. She smiled.

Finishing her chores, the woman stopped at the side of her bed and her mouth fell open in shock. It would have been comical, if she wasn't gazing at the stuffed animal as if it had suddenly come to life.

"Where'd you get that, Little Miss?" she asked shakily, gesturing to the object in the girl's arms.

Sarah instinctively hugged the teddy bear closer to her, refusing to let it go. She knew that somehow, her friend had given it to her, just as he had given her the book. The stuffed toy was meant to protect her when Mr. Owl wasn't around.

And giving him up was beyond unthinkable.

"It's not mine, Miss Rosalie?" Sarah questioned sadly. "Are you mad at me?"

The surprised expression on the old woman's face softened.

"I'm not mad at you, child," she replied. "I was merely surprised, that's all. I haven't seen that bear in years!"

"You have, Lady Miss?"

She nodded, getting a glazed, reminiscent look in her warm, brown eyes. "Aye, I've seen it all right. It belonged to the King once. 'e was just a little boy when he kept it in his room. He threatened me never to tell anyone, of course."

Rosalie chuckled, making Sarah giggle too, imagining a young lad no older than she was with mismatched eyes glaring quite ineffectively at a younger Rosalie who was trying hard not to laugh.

"Really, Miss Rosalie? But – why did he get hurt?" Sarah asked, indicating the many damages of the toy. Judging by how he managed his kingdom, she was sure that he was as meticulous when it comes to his personal possessions.

Rosalie's face fell.

"It wasn't His Majesty's fault, Young Mistress. A couple of rowdy boys had learned about the bear and taunted him with it when he was a wee lad and he was powerless to stop it. He was so devastated, but the brave boy never let his sadness show. It was his only friend, you see. From then on, I never saw it again until today."

Sarah can sympathize with him. She felt so defenseless whenever her classmates took her stuff and the only thing she could do was stand back and watch in the sidelines. At least she had Mr. Owl, a living, animated creature to rely on when the Goblin King might have none.

"Do I – do I have to give it back to Mr. Jareth, Rosalie?" she asked hesitantly

"Of course not! His Majesty trusts you enough to give you his only friend. Why would you give back a gift?"

She smiled calming Sarah's fears.

"Could you fix him up, Miss Rosalie? What is his name? And oh! Please, please make one of his eyes blue!" the girl pleaded. The old woman chuckled.

"Sure, Little Mistress! Give me an hour and after your breakfast with the King he'd be good as new. But for the life of me I could not remember what the King used to call him."

So the privilege of naming him was given to Sarah. She thought about it deeply, knowing how important names were. She knew that hers meant _princess_, though she didn't feel like one. She realized that she was far from it, but she was proud of her mame nonetheless.

Something didn't make sense, though. She believed with all her heart that it was Mr. Owl who had given the stuffed toy to her but how did he get it when it was safely guarded by the Goblin King? Are they friends with each other? But if they were, how come the King hadn't made any mention about the owl? Did he forget? Or did he not know that she was a friend of Mr. Owl, too?

Her thoughts wandered back to the bear. It had been brave, withstanding his injuries and managing to live up to now. So much like a _knight…_

She smiled happily.

_Lancelot._ She was going to name him Lancelot.

* * *

What do you think? Please review!

Lancelot the teddy bear makes an appearance! Well, he did play an important role in the movie after all. Without him, Sarah won't wish her little brother away. He was a vital factor.

I hope that Jareth isn't too OOC. I had a hard time maintaining his _sang froid _while making him care_._

Sarah finally has suspicions about the Goblin King and Mr. Owl! Took her long enough. Shouldn't the eyes be a dead giveaway?

Maybe you have noticed it, maybe you haven't, but I start every chapter with an italicized stanza. They are actually nursery rhymes which I revised. Anyone can tell me what nursery rhymes I based on for the first three chapters? Just a little fact. I just want to know if they are obvious.

_Chapter 4:_

_"Do you have pets, Mr. Jareth, sir? Like, owls, for instance?"_


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! Sorry for the delay, we had our exams last week so I wasn't able to post this.

I see that most of you liked Lancelot so much! If he can move he would be sticking out his tongue at a disgruntled Mr. Owl by now. Another character shows up - I hope you like her too.

Review replies:

**Kore-of-Myth: **Thank you! I'm glad to know that they aren't OOC. You are right on the rhymes of chapters 1 & 2 - wow, you must have extensive knowledge on nursery rhymes! Thank you too for your 'speech bubble' tip. I never knew that!

**FreakyD45663: **Thank you! Sarah sure is an optimist! She's going to need sanguinity in the next chapters. Sorry for the delay!

**Almaria: **Awww! Thank you! What a nice thing to say! Don't worry, Jareth is starting to care - no one is immune to Little Sarah's cute charms!

**helikesitheymikey: **As of the moment, Sarah is the heir, which may be subject to change later on. If majority would like them to end up together, I might do it in a sequel or something. Maybe. Possibly. I don't know. Sorry for the delay!

**notwritten: **Thank you for reviewing! Sorry for the delay!

**Dr.Pepperz: **Come to think of it, they don't sell tootsie rolls from where I live. We have to import them from America or somewhere. I only get to taste those candies once in a blue moon. sigh Thanks! I think Little Sarah is loveable too! Do you think Jareth would let me exchange my baby sister for her? sees the Goblin King's angry glare Maybe not.

**Natsuko37:** Thank you! Actually, you were right. It was originally supposed to be a stuffed owl before I thought of Lancelot.

**The Mad Maiden:** Little Sarah is going to find out about the true identity of Mr. Owl soon - she is a smart girl. I think that Sarah talking about her mom was sad, too. Little Sarah loves her mother so much.

**samuraistar: **Thanks for the compliment! You are a good writer yourself! Thank you also for the new word - I never knew that the word 'Seussian' exists.

**Rahpsody: **That's what I thought, too, when I added in Lancelot. I was thinking - why was that teddy bear so important to Sarah? Then I thought, because the person who gave it to her was special, too!

**Gotta Dance 88: **I love teddy bears, too! Little Sarah will find out about Mr. Owl's alter ego soon

**13figureskater-Draco'sgirl: **You are right! It is Jack and Jill. Jareth is beginning to like her, don't worry, and I agree with you that he needs to lighten up. Thank you!

* * *

_To the village, to the village to meet new friends,_

_Home again, home again, jiggedig jig_

_To the village, to the village to meet new friends,_

_Home again, home again, jiggedig jig_

* * *

"You look pretty, Little Miss."

Sarah beamed and twirled around, making her skirt billow. The dress reached passed her knees, swishing near her ankles. It was light green, embroidered with dainty yellow flowers on its trim, reminding her of a sunny, verdant meadow filled with blooming dandelions in the time of spring.

"You think so, Miss Rosalie?" she asked shyly.

Rosalie wove a matching ribbon and ran her fingers through the girl's hair, relieving the tangles.

"I do, child. And the dress fits you perfectly!" she praised, patting Sarah's head. "Now dear, we do have to hurry. The king does not like to wait."

The little girl wrapped her tiny, trusting fingers in the older woman's hand, causing her to smile. Together, they marched out of the room, Rosalie slowing her gait so that Sarah could keep up.

Sarah took the walk as an opportunity to view the castle further. Her room was behind one of the many doors that line the smooth, stone walls. The velvety carpet cushioned the footfalls of those who pass the seemingly endless corridors. She remained silent, trying to memorize her way, and listening to the excited chatter of her companion. Soon, the hallways split into an ornate, grand staircase, whose balusters are as shiny as orient pearls which rose from the ocean. She wondered if it was as slippery as it looked, and how it would feel if she slid down it. The stairs descended to a spacious ball room, and the chandelier hanging at the very center of the ceiling was a spectrum of colors where light had struck its crystals.

"At the East Wing are the King's two throne rooms, little miss. You should see them! Maybe I'll show them to you later…"

"Why does he need two throne rooms, Miss Rosalie?"

"Well," she answered. "The King uses the bigger room is for receiving audience of nobility – lords, ladies and such. The room is only for show, really. The lesser one is where he does his job and keeps those naughty goblin subjects of his. You should stay away from them, Little Sarah. I have never met a rowdier crowd than them."

It didn't bother Sarah much – after all, her classmates loved playing pranks. But something she said caught the little girl's attention.

"What does a Goblin King do, Miss Rosalie?"

She knew that a king was in charge of his kingdom – and all those who live in it. But what was the Labyrinth for? It can't just be for protection – there were a lot of creatures in the Goblin City, and she can tell that they were able to venture in and out of the Goblin King's domain without stepping in the maze. And why were there so many human beings in the Underground? Did they come here the same way Sarah had? Surely, the book Mr. Owl had given her was only partially true – the Goblin King in the story had been cruel…heartless, even. She could not picture Jareth being mean to a little girl. After all, he had been nice to Sarah, right?

So intent was she on her musings that she didn't notice her companion's inner turmoil. Rosalie was flustered. It was obvious that His Majesty did not want to inform his little charge about what he did, and she had to respect his decision. Besides, she didn't want to break the little girl's trust in her master by telling the outright truth. How had the cold and aloof Goblin King gained the trust of the expressive moppet in the first place?

Luckily, she was saved from answering Sarah by their arrival at the Great Hall. Rosalie pushed the lofty, double doors open and ushered her in.

"But what about you, Miss Rosalie?" Sarah asked, noticing that her caretaker made no move to follow.

Rosalie shook her head.

"I promised you that your little friend will be fixed as soon as ye finished your breakfast, have I not?"

"But – but you have not eaten yet."

Rosalie smiled at the little girl's concern. Where had Jareth find such a dear, sweet child? It was impossible that anybody would want to wish her away.

"I will be fine, child. I'll come back for you later." Giving her an affectionate pat on the head, she closed the door with a thud.

Sarah stared at the closed door silently. She would see the kind lady again later, but she couldn't help the feelings of worry that Rosalie won't ever return again, like all the adults who had come before her. It was foolish to feel this way, yes, and she only managed to quell these unwanted emotions upon remembering her caretaker's words and sincere brown eyes.

"The door won't open if you just stare at it, Sarah."

Sarah whirled around at the voice, and saw the Goblin King seated at the head of the table. It was without a doubt the longest table she had ever laid eyes on, and can possibly seat a hundred people at once. The uncovered, sparkly windows welcomed the sight of an exquisite garden, bright with life because of the generous amount of sunshine poured onto it.

She smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, Mr. Goblin King, sir."

Drawing nearer, she picked up her skirt in a wide arc at her side and sank in a deep curtsy, as she had seen princesses in books do.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," she greeted in her best grown-up voice, missing the faint look of amusement in his eyes.

He nodded in reply and gestured to the seat at his right side where an awaiting plate was prepared.

Sarah pulled back the heavy chair and climbed onto it, settling comfortably on the cushions piled atop of it to help her reach the table's surface.

"Are the accommodations to your liking?" he asked.

"Very much so," she answered, mimicking his tone.

His lips quirked, threatening to develop to a smile. He did not just find her grown-up manners _cute._ Proper and impressionable, yes, but not _cute. _What in the name of Underground did the word mean anyway?

The little girl reached out and plucked a peach from a nearby fruit bowl. Turning the rather large fruit in her hands, she remembered what she was supposed to ask him.

"Do you have pets, Mr. Goblin King? Owls for instance?"

Did she suspect him? He looked into her guileless eyes and saw the honest curiosity shining through them. No. She was incapable of cunning.

"There are innumerable creatures running rampant in the Labyrinth, Sarah. Why do you ask?"

He did not know Mr. Owl after all? Her shoulders slumped.

"No reason," she mumbled

Jareth lifted his goblet for a drink. Staring at her dejected posture through the rim, he said, "I presume that you would want to visit the barn. There are a lot of owls there. You are free to roam wherever you wish to as long as you remain in my kingdom."

Sarah perked up at that. Swallowing the last of her fruit, she happily answered, "Really, sir? Thank you, Mr. Jareth! Can I go now?"

Practically bouncing in her seat and forgetting about her grown-up attitude, he eyed her with the amused glint in his eye again.

" 'May,' Sarah. You do not use 'can' when asking for a permission."

"Oh. In that case, can – I mean – may I go now?"

He nodded. "You are excused."

Remembering her manners, she curtseyed briefly, before taking leave and merrily skipping away, a bemused Goblin King staring after her. He hoped that she would not take his permission for her to wander everywhere too literally. It is rather hard to find a lost child in the Labyrinth.

* * *

Sarah smiled and took a deep breath, gazing at her surroundings rapturously in an attempt to engrave its beauty in her memory.

The Garden.

She took hesitant steps forward, afraid that the garden will run away once it learns of her intrusion. Mother Nature and her four daughters – Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall – must live here, for there was no other explanation as to why the place turned out to be so… beautiful.

The sun in its esteemed position high in the sky looked down with favor at its prostrated subject and only allowed gentle, golden sunshine to tough its grassy skin. The trees were extolled, stately ladies with colorful birds as jewels in their emerald green hair and vines of wisteria and morning glory curled protectively around their wooden trunks served as clothing. A fountain was bubbling merrily, the soothing sounds complimenting the sanctuary's serenity. Mischievous nymphs left bushes of honeysuckle and lavender to thrive anywhere on the ground to trip the careless ones who will pass by. At the center was a pavilion, where she can imagine the magical beings holding a meeting under the light of a full moon.

A noise interrupted her thoughts, so soft that she won't be able to hear it if she were in a louder place. The sound was caused by wails, but Sarah cannot see anything which may have made it. Was it possible that this paradise sheltered ghosts as well?

There it was again! But now she was able to tell that it came from near the fountain. Was the fountain crying?

_You are so silly, Sarah! _She chastised herself. _Fountains don't cry!_

She confirmed that thought when she saw a girl with her head in her lap and her back supported by the fountain, her shoulders shaking in grief.

Sarah sat down on the ground beside her, uncaring if her pretty green dress got dirty. Why the girl was crying was more important.

"Why are you crying?"

The girl's head snapped up, meeting her stare. With her black eyes and shoulder-length red hair, Sarah thought that she looked familiar. Where had she seen her before?

"I-I miss my family," she replied. "They love me so much."

Sarah grinned. How alike they were!

"Really? I miss mine too! But you shouldn't cry. Your family won't like it if they see you sad. They'll be sad too, because they love you!"

The redhead blinked in surprise.

"My name's Sarah and I'm six! But I'll be seven soon!"

Wiping her tears on the back of her hand, her companion gave a small smile.

"That makes me three years older than you. I'm Sophia. I haven't seen you before. You must be new here."

Sarah nodded. "I came here yesterday."

"Yesterday? But that means-" She gave a startled gasp, and scrambled to her feet, bobbing a curtsy. "Beg pardon, Your Highness. I didn't recognize you."

Sarah got up too, shaking her head in puzzlement. "No, you don't have to do that. I'm Sarah, and you must have mistaken me for someone else."

"I couldn't be mistaken, Highness-"

"There we go again. I'm Sarah!" she paused. "Will you be my friend?"

Sophia blinked in surprise for the second time. Then she smiled shyly.

"I would love to, Little Sarah."

The younger girl gave a pout, which made the other laugh.

"Rosalie calls me that. I'm not little! I'll be seven soon!"

"And I'm older than you." Sophia said teasingly. "Have you seen the village? I'll be glad to take you there."

"Really? What are we waiting for? Come on!" she grasped her new friend's hand and tugged at it. Then stopped.

"I don't know where to go," she said sheepishly, making Sophia laugh again.

"Follow me!"

Sophia walked to the opening of the Labyrinth, with Sarah trailing along in her wake tentatively.

Seeing the darkening skies and the towering hedges made Sarah falter in her steps.

"Are you sure about this, Sophia?"

"Of course I am! I've used this path many times before. It's a shortcut."

The little girl tried not to focus on the menacing ambience of the maze, growing more sinister as they delved deeper. She tried not to think about how silent everything was, save for a maleficent crow of an unseen bird or a crack of a twig behind them. She refused to see how fast the skies were disappearing, or how the withering trees seemed to want to strangle them with their branches. Were those eyes, eerily glowing in the dark?

"Let's just use the long cut, Sophia. Sophia?"

Sarah turned to her companion.

She belatedly realized that she was alone. Her heart sank.

She was _lost._

* * *

What do you think? Please review!

* * *

_Chapter 5:_

_"I ain't no goblin, Missy. Me's a dwarf!"_


	5. Chapter 5

Hello! I'm sorry that I took ages to update! Please take this slightly longer chapter as a peace offering! I hope that you didn't lose enthusiasm for this story, and I would love to receive your reviews. I assure you that I'm going to finish this story, no matter what! I'm sorry that I can't post review replies, I'm rather in a hurry today.

* * *

_Little Sarah has lost her way_

_And can't tell where to find it _

_Leave it to a dwarf to tell her where's home _

_Pointing to a trail behind her _

* * *

"Sophia? Sophia!"

An owl hooted overhead, making her look up. But instead of the brown and white feathers she was expecting, this one was completely black, and it dove towards her at breakneck speed, deadly claws glinting insanely. She threw her arms to protect her head and broke into a run.

Blood was rushing in her ears, and her heart was pounding madly in her chest, with an intensity that threatened to burst out of her ribcage. She was running so fast that all she could see was a blur, as if everything was submerged under turbulent waters, spinning around in a whirlpool to lure her in.

In her haste to escape whatever was chasing her, she didn't notice a gnarled tree root protruding from the ground, sending her sprawling to the damp, earthy soil. She tensed up, expecting to feel the lethal talons slashing across her back. She gazed up.

Nothing.

The little girl took great gulps of air, having exhausted her supply of oxygen in her sprint earlier. Yet she could not cease the rapid fluttering of her heart, or alleviate the feeling of being watched, which settled between her shoulder blades and made her wary of her surroundings.

She sensed movement behind her. Though her instincts screamed at her to flee and never look back, she ignored it and did the opposite.

Which she promptly regretted.

The tree, whose refuge she had sought, _moved. _She could not discard it merely as a motion caused by the wind, for all was still. The willow groaned under the strain, as if unused to locomotion. She froze.

It groaned again, the moans sounding like a dolorous elegy for the dead. It was grieving for the damned souls languishing in the fires of hell, but the pleas were futile because of the deafening, joyous cheers in heaven.

A wolf bayed somewhere near, echoing throughout the vast expanse of the forest and luckily, shook her out of her dazed stupor. Quickly scrambling to her feet, she coaxed her tired legs to run.

Fear had clouded her sight, and dread had seeped in her skin and soaked her bone, heightening her already sensitive senses. She very much felt like a prey scuttling uselessly away from a predator she could neither see nor evade.

Without warning, the ground she was standing collapsed. Gravity kicked in and she began to fall.

Her thoughts flew out of a proverbial window. They flitted in her mind, close but too far to grasp. All she could register was the feeling of falling, and there was no doubt that Death was waiting with open arms as soon as she hit the bottom. Her heart had plunged to her stomach, and she was grateful not to have eaten much during breakfast. She was unaware of her surroundings as she feebly grappled in the dark for something to hold on. She did not know if she was screaming, for the forces that pushed her closer to her death drowned any sound that she might be able to hear.

She had never ridden on a roller coaster before, but she was sure that this was worse than that. There was no seatbelt to strap you in your seat, nor any handrails to help in your stability. And people rode on them to have fun, not to acquire an appointment with the Grim Reaper.

_Make it stop. Make it stop. Please!_

As soon as she had thought it, her body slammed mercilessly on the hard ground, her breath leaving her in a whoosh, but her pain was blinded by her relief to be on a solid surface again.

She lay there; still and unmoving, letting the sensations wash over her. It will all be dark if it were not for a solitary beacon of light passing from somewhere overhead.

She was mind-numbingly cold – was this how the onset of death felt like? Strange; she thought that death was a release from pain and suffering, an eternal respite from the turmoil which ravages the human mind. She can remember the first time she had encountered the concept – a dog of her neighbor had crossed the street and accidentally got run over by a car. She saw how the brilliant sparkle faded ever so slowly in the dog's eyes, and how the rise and fall of its chest stopped as it lay in the crimson pool of its own blood, never to move or bark or play fetch again.

She researched about it in her father's gargantuan tomes – not all of them were about law. The books had always made death so peaceful and calm. Why then could she feel the cold and hear the thudding of her heart, which was finally slowing from its frenzied rhythm earlier? Why was the fear still present, blurring the corners of her vision, and conjuring up images from the shadows?

There was no other explanation to it – she was still alive.

Sarah sat up slowly, grimacing at the effort it took. Aside from a few scrapes and a sore bottom which would probably bruise earlier, she felt fine. She could not say the same for her dress though, she thought, looking down at it regrettably. It was dirty and torn in places where the trees had snagged it.

What it this place? She thought, looking around uselessly. Was it possible that 'nothing' can exist? There was no other word to describe the limbo she was suspended on. She would die here then, and nobody would ever know of the sad fate which befell on a little girl called Sarah.

She could not let that happen! Her friends were waiting for her – no matter where they were. They would be so worried…

* * *

She did not know how long she stayed there huddled in a corner until she heard scuttling footsteps coming around an unseen bend.

"Whatcha doin' here?"

Sarah raised her head and saw a very odd little man with surprise etched across every ridge on his face. A dark purple cap was on his head, covering his balding spot and emphasized his large ears which were sticking out. Small, beady eyes gazed at her assessingly, and were framed by graying tufts of hair. He was dressed in clothes every bit as unusual as him, and in his hands was a grimy oil lamp.

"I – I don't know Mr. Goblin, sir," she replied.

His scowl got deeper and dropping the lamp at his feet, he crossed his arms.

"I ain't no stinking goblin, Missy. Me's a dwarf."

She smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, Mr. Dwarf-man, sir."

"Me name's Hoggle!"

"Oh. Sorry Mr. Hoggle-man, sir," she repeated.

"It's _Hoggle_! No Mr., Sir, or Ma'am."

"It's nice to meet you, Hoggle," she greeted politely.

Hoggle blinked in surprise. He uncrossed his arms, dropping them at his side as if not knowing what to do with them, before grumbling under his breath and picking up the lamp on the floor.

"Whatcha' doin' here?" he repeated.

Sarah smiled. In spite of his gruffness, she could not help but like him. She had a feeling that he needed a friend and instincts were right. Well, most of the time.

"I got lost, Hoggle," she admitted.

"You won't happen to be one of those lookin' for them siblings, are you?" he asked suspiciously. "Because I ain't helping, no matter what!"

"I'm not looking for anyone, Hoggle. I came from the Castle Beyond the Goblin City, and I got lost. My name's Sarah."

"Castle Beyond -" his eyes narrowed. "Yer the new kid Jareth got, aren't you?"

Sarah opened her mouth to reply when he beat her to it, glancing furtively in the dark as if expecting something to pounce.

"Don't ye believe a word he is saying!" he warned in a whisper, bending closer to where she was sitting. "He ain't telling no truths!"

Sarah was surprised at his animosity, but couldn't fathom why he had such a reaction to any thought regarding the Goblin King.

"Mr. Jareth has been nothing but nice to me, Hoggle," she protested. "He is so good!"

Hoggle snorted derisively. "Shows what you know."

She dropped the subject. Hoggle did not like Mr. Jareth enough. But her friends need to be friends with each other too!

"Please, Hoggle. Will you help me find my way back? They will be looking for me."

His scowl softened.

"All right! All right, Missy! No need fer yer infernal begging," he grumbled. "Though I ain't doing this fer Jareth, no siree!"

Placing his lamp on the ground, he picked up a thin, rectangular-shaped block of wood and fastened it on a wall she hadn't noticed before. He pulled it open to reveal a store of cleaning supplies, from which a mop fell out.

_A broom cupboard?_

"Faulty, darn doors," he muttered. The dwarf stashed the mop back, closed the door and proceeded to bang at it so hard that Sarah was beginning to worry about the state of his knuckles. She did not have to fret too long however, when he abruptly pulled it to show a dark passageway.

He glanced back at her still-seated form.

"Well, whadda waitin' for? The door's not gonna come closer to you, you know,"

She snapped out of her gaze and quickly got up to follow him. They couldn't see anything more than a few feet away from them, and the only illumination they had was the meager light from Hoggle's lamp. Sarah often lamented her lack of height, but now she found it at her advantage for her companion was no taller than her.

"What was that place, Hoggle?"

He shifted the lamp to his other hand.

"That was an oubliette, Missy," he answered. "It's a place fer forgetting, if yeh didn't know. How'd you end up here anyway?"

"I made a new friend, Hoggle. She was supposed to tour me in the Goblin City, and I followed her to the Labyrinth, but we got lost."

"You shouldn't have done that. What if she was a bad person? Not all is what it seems in this place."

She remained silent. It was sound advice, after all.

"Did you get lost too, Hoggle?"

He shook his head. "Hardly. I was doin' me rounds, that's all. To see if there's someone in the oubliettes."

Her brow wrinkled in thought.

"But I thought that it was a place for forgetting."

He glanced at her slyly from the corner of his eye, as if contemplating letting her in on a big secret.

"Ye gotta know if there's someone ya need to forget," he shrugged. "Maybe ya didn't need to forget the person after all."

They had walked a few more paces when Sarah spoke up again.

"What about you, Hoggle?"

"Wha-what about me?" he asked, attention focused on maneuvering their way along the confusing path.

"Do you have friends?"

"I don't need no friends."

His answer came a second too late, and he hoped that he didn't hear the bitterness in his voice. She giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"You're so silly, Hoggle! Everybody needs friends!"

The dwarf looked affronted and pretended not to hear.

"Do you want one, Hoggle?"

"Want what?"

"A friend."

"A friend?"

"Yes," she declared happily. "I'll be glad to be your friend!"

Hoggle stopped and peered at her dubiously.

"I'm not exact'y a happy dwarf like in them storybooks, ya know."

"I noticed."

"I don't know much about those friendship stuff."

"That's okay. You can learn. I can teach you!"

The tunnel twisted to a dead end, where a rickety ladder was waiting, centuries of accumulated cobwebs from long gone spiders clinging on the rigs. Moss stuck to the rock walls, and light rushed in the little place which made Sarah look up.

"You're not going to give up this 'friendship stuff' are you?" he asked suddenly.

It took her a moment to answer, for she was focused on how near she was to freedom and hypaethral, blue skies.

She shook her head. "Nope!"

He sighed. "Well, someone _has _to keep you outta trouble."

The smile on her face widened. She took that as a yes.

While she was waiting for Hoggle to speak again, her fingers came upon the trinket which the lady with the baby on the street had given her ages ago. Or was it only yesterday? Time seemed so insignificant here – or maybe, it was just her. After all, our initial wonder at something new and out-of-the ordinary was indelibly painted on our characters, a trait which makes us more human.

Returning to the accessory, Sarah remembered what the lady had told her.

"Here," she said, sliding the bracelet off her wrist. She took his large hand in her own. It was calloused and rough – the hand of a seasoned worker. Sarah felt a swell of pride for her friend who worked hard for a living. Before Hoggle could react, she tied the bracelet on his lower arm. The awestruck expression on Hoggle's face was comical, but she resisted the urge to laugh for she knew that it was wrong to make fun of others, especially if he or she is a new friend.

"A friend had given it to me once. Who knows? Maybe you'll give it to one of yours someday," she said, quoting the lady's words.

She looked up again and pretended not to see how his fingers lingered on the bauble, and how his eyes were suddenly so suspiciously moist. He need not express his gratitude in words, for his actions had already amplified what he meant to say.

The dwarf, having composed himself, said, "Get up there now, Missy."

Precariously taking one rig in hand, she ascended slowly, wincing every time the ladder creaked under her weight. She could sense the dwarf following closely at her heels, and all the dust entering her respiratory tract made her want to sneeze.

Having reached the top, she sent a silent thanks to whoever was listening to her prayers. Although the sky was overcast, result of being in the Labyrinth, she no longer felt as if the walls were closing in around her. She exhaled slowly, relieved that the air has lost its mustiness. She swung a leg from the rim of the well where the ladder was in, and stumbled to the ground. Hoggle came out a few moments later, carrying a snuffed out lamp in one hand.

Remembering where she was, Sarah blanched.

"Hoggle, we've come out of the Labyrinth," she whispered agitatedly.

"So? I thought ye wanted to get out of the oubliette."

"I did, Hoggle. But it's too dark in here. I'm scared."

He snorted. "That's what the Labyrinth wants you to think. It turns to whatever ye expect it to be, turns yer wants and fears ag'inst you. That's why them people who enter don't last, you know. Can't stand being near to what they want and not being able to get it."

Wat it true? Sarah peered over her hands to look at the maze. The forest wasn't as dense and foreboding as before. Were those the very same trees she had imagined were chasing her earlier? They stood still and silent, their leaves unruffled. And she could clearly see the skies from where she stood – hadn't the forest blocked her view of it before?

"See? Told ya so," the dwarf said smugly. A furry rabbit hopped near him, its nose twitching in curiosity. Hoggle grimaced at its 'cuteness.' "Now you overdid it."

"It's so beautiful!" Sarah said, clasping her hands in delight, earlier experience forgotten. "Can you see what I see, Hoggle?"

He nodded once. "I can see whatever me companion sees."

"But what can _you _see when you're alone?"

"Barren land which goes on for miles and miles," he replied flatly. "I see whatever the labyrinth wishes me to see."

"Oh."

The trace of bitterness crept in his voice again.

"You do want to return to that blasted castle, don't you?"

She nodded solemnly.

"Okay, okay," he sighed. " Haven't been there in years."

The dwarf trudged on forward, the little girl following close by.

"What do you do, Hoggle?"

"Eh?"

"Your work. Things you do to earn wages."

"Not that I get paid for it, but I take care of flowers."

"Flowers?" she asked delightedly. Sarah never thought that Hoggle liked plants!

"Ye sound like ye don't believe me," he said, his tone accusatory.

"Oh, no! I believe you, Hoggle. I like flowers too!"

"Me garden patch's just over here."

The odd pair stopped at a humble straw hut whose front yard was filled with numerous flowers of every color imaginable.

"Wow..."

Hoggle stared at his plants with a proud glint in his eye, resembling a father praising his children. "Took me years to finish this," he said, gesturing to the considerable area of land. "Kinda hard, since it's inside the Labyrinth, 'specially with all those pesky fairies roaming about. But did I show them!"

She noticed that he eyed a metal thing that looked like a spray gun, leaning inconspicuously on a faded picket fence.

"You are a very good gardener, Hoggle. Why aren't you working in the castle? I'm sure that you would do the flowers a favor."

The amiable look on his features darkened once more.

"I did. Once," he said, in a tone that told her to drop the subject. Which she did, gladly, for whatever it was, she can see that it was upsetting him.

"What's that?"

Hoggle swiveled his head to where she was pointing.

Standing amidst the colorful combinations of bougainvillea, lily and posy was a small, unassuming flower. It wasn't as bright as those which surround it, and the imposing height of the others made it seem like a weed rather than a flower.

"Oh, that." His face fell. "A rather odd one, really. Doesn't fit in with the others, and very stubborn – only blooms at night, when no one can see! But I don't have the heart to pull 'er out."

Dropping to her knees, she reached out a hand to touch the closed, gray bud. The corolla suddenly spread out its petals, answering to the summon of her caress. Its color was the shade of the deepest, bluest evening sky and the diamond dewdrops clinging to it looked like stars. Sarah jerked back her hand and the plant returned to its unresponsive state.

"It's never done that before," Hoggle said, mystified. He scratched his head, and moving near her, he did he same thing.

Nothing happened.

They stayed there in silence, both assessing the strange flower. Hoggle spoke first.

"Ye can have it."

Sarah blinked and stared at him, surprised.

"What?"

The dwarf dropped his eyes and scuffled his feet, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

"Ya know," he mumbled. "For this."

He discreetly played with the bracelet on his arm.

"I can't possibly take this, Hoggle. It's yours," she replied. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but the pretty flower might die in her hands.

"But ye gave me yer bracelet."

"That's because I want you to have it. You're my friend. You don't have to give me anything just because I gave you something. You don't have to feel ob-obligated."

"I want you to have it too," he mumbled awkwardly. A little louder, he said, "Besides, if ye were worryin' that it might wither, I don't think it would. Magical flowers tend to last longer."

"Well if you insist," she replied. "Thank you Hoggle!"

Hoggle went to a little, rundown shack which probably served as his tool shed and retrieved his garden shears. With a tenderness that belied his rough, pudgy hands, he carefully clipped the marcescent bud and dropped it onto her outstretched palm.

The flower was in full bloom, as if it was nestled in the lushest valley instead of the dry concave of her hand. It really was small; the stem curling in upon itself and spiraled around the sepals. Its scent wafted in her senses when she brought it close to her face to sniff it, and its redolence was so unique and common, familiar and strange at the same time.

"Better get ye back at the castle," Hoggle interrupted.

She sighed dejectedly and stood up to follow.

* * *

Sarah felt a rush of relief when the path ended at the opening which she recognized led to the Gardens. She ran the last few steps, and saw Rosalie standing with her new friend Sophia, both looking frazzled and upset. The Goblin King was there too, posture more rigid than ever. They looked relieved when they caught sight of her.

Sophia sprinted up to meet her, and she was close to crying.

"Sarah? Oh, Sarah. I'm so sorry!"

Before she could reply, the Goblin King spoke first.

"What happened?" he asked in an icy tone.

Sarah saw the blood drain from Sophia's face, and felt bad for her new friend.

"It's okay now, Mr. Jareth, sir," she replied for her. "I'm fine now. See?"

His mismatched eyes scrutinized dubiously at her ruined dress and the scratches on her arms which Sarah ignored.

"I wasn't aware that we have different definitions of fine, Sarah," he said flatly, returning his gaze at Sophia. "Mine does not include resembling something a goblin dragged in."

"Well, my definition is better," she declared stubbornly. "Besides, someone helped me."

To prove her point, an annoyed huffing was heard from where she came from.

"There ya are, Missy! Don't go runnin' away like that! If I'd -"

He stopped short, and narrowed his gaze at the person beside Sarah.

"You!" he spat vindictively.

Jareth inclined his head in mock salutation, a smirk on his lips.

"Dwarf," he greeted neutrally.

_"Jareth," _Hoggle said acidly. _"_Yer brother was better than you,"

The mocking smile on the Goblin King's face vanished and his eyes became icier when he dropped his lighthearted facade and turned serious.

"Rosalie? Take Sarah to her room and get her clean," he ordered. Sensing Rosalie's reluctance, he gritted his teeth in impatience and added, "Please."

A wide-eyed Rosalie towed away a curious Sarah and an equally apologetic Sophia.

Jareth rounded upon a very smug dwarf.

"I would appreciate it if you keep your petty comments to yourself when we're around Sarah, _Hogsnout,"_ he hissed.

"What's-a-matter, Jareth?" the dwarf taunted. "Can't take it when yer li'l tool finds out who ye really are?"

"Stay away from her."

"Yer not goin' to hurt the little lady, are you?"

Jareth stepped back, and crossed his arms. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why, _Hog-wash._ I didn't know you cared."

"I just don't want to see another one hurt."

"She has you wrapped around her little finger already," the Goblin King surmised amusedly.

"'Course not."

Hoggle crossed his arms in defiance, but dropped them uncertainly and the look on his face softened.

"I – she's something special, Jareth. A true gem," Realizing that he forgot to lace the Goblin King's name with venom and that the atmosphere was dangerously close to being amiable, he tried to bring back the menacing look on his face, but ended up looking pained. Which wasn't very intimidating at all. "This doesn't mean that we're friends again."

The Goblin King's features remained blank.

"I never even considered it, _Hodge-podge."_

Hoggle muttered a useless "It's Hog-_gle"_ under his breath, knowing that it would be unheeded. "Ye can't keep me away from her. She likes me too."

"Only heaven knows why," Jareth drawled.

"Could say the same fer ye."

"I resent that."

Hoggle snorted and was about to leave when he received the shock of his life.

"Hoggle?"

He turned to the stoic man with disbelieving eyes.

"Did-did ye actu'lly get me name right?" he asked, incredulity in every syllable of his words.

"No. You must have misheard me," Jareth sneered. The dwarf rolled his eyes and turned away.

"Thank you for saving her, Hoggle."

He grimaced, and the dwarf's steps faltered.

"I didn't do it fer ye, Jareth," he said without facing him.

* * *

Sarah sat on the chair by the windowsill, a newly-repaired Lancelot in hand and a lollipop in the other, watching the sun sink on the farthest western edge of the Labyrinth.

It had taken her hours to convince Rosalie that she was fine, and afterwards the woman barely left her side. Sophia stammered out a lot of 'sorry's' and whenever Sarah tried to talk to her, the conversation won't end without an apology from the older girl. Rosalie had chastised Sophia for taking her to the Labyrinth, and Sarah felt bad for that. It was partly her fault, for she knew that she shouldn't have wandered without supervision.

Where was Hoggle? She had returned to the Garden only to find the acerbic dwarf gone. She didn't want to go to his house in the Labyrinth alone, for she will surely be lost in a matter of minutes. Her caretaker had no idea where he went, so she spent her time with her playmate once Sophia got over her tendency to apologize over and over again.

Maybe Hoggle was in his garden patch with his pretty flowers. Was he mad that she hadn't said goodbye? He did leave rather abruptly, so she hadn't had the chance for farewell. She was curious about the 'offhand' remark he made to Jareth, but Rosalie had evaded the question when he asked her about it.

She heard the flutter of wings and smiled at the sight of her friend.

"Mr. Owl!" she greeted. "You're early today!"

He gave her a look that said, "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Owl," she assured. How did he know what happened to her? She showed him her arms, which had no traces of the scratches she had received earlier. "Rosalie healed me. It was like magic!"

Sarah laughed when she realized that it was indeed magic.

"Thank you for the teddy bear, by the way," She held Lancelot in front of him so that their faces were parallel with each other. "His eyes are just like yours. See?"

The owl gave her an incredulous stare which seemed to say, "Do you really believe I gave him to you? I'm an owl!"

"I know you gave him to me, Mr. Owl. Although I don't know how," she replied to his unvoiced question. "I named him Lancelot. Is that okay with you?"

He tried to shrug his shoulders to tell her, "Go ahead. It's your toy now."

She licked her lollipop and laughed again at the glare he gave her.

"Don't worry, Mr. Owl," she said. "I'll brush my teeth afterwards. And I won't let it ruin my appetite for dinner, I promise."

"Oh! Which reminds me." Sarah hopped out of the chair and went to her dresser. She smiled upon seeing the flower she placed atop of it. Hoggle's gift was in full bloom, probably because it was dusk and nighttime approaches. She placed her candy back in its wrapper and went back to her seat with the bud in her grasp.

"Isn't it so pretty? It reminded me of you, Mr. Owl. I know that it isn't much, but I would like you to have it. As a token of grat-gratitude. You've done me a lot of good, and I want to repay you for it."

She stilled as she heard the clock strike another hour.

"Oh no! I'm gonna be late for dinner!" She straightened out the wrinkles in her dress and combed her fingers through her hair. Making a beeline for the door, Sarah stopped short and waved at him. "Don't wait up for me, Mr. Owl. I'm sure that you have to eat dinner, too. I might take too long, and you'll be grumpy. Hungry people are always grumpy. I think it applies to owls, also. Bye-bye!"

The owl watched as she pulled the door open and closed it with a hurried thud.

* * *

Jareth stood at the window of his study, turning the present in his hands.

Oddly enough, he was touched. Nobody had thought of giving him a gift before, just because they wanted to say thank you. They gave mostly to ask favors, and he never felt..._touched _by them. Not that he could remember, and he remembered _a lot._

His brother was the one who received the gifts. His brother was the one who had all the thanks, the praises, and the admiration. Maybe the dratted dwarf was right. Maybe his brother _was _better than him.

That can't be true. _His brother_ was supposed to be king, but he had to be foolish, stupid, and reckless, and one day, Jareth found the blame for what happened heaped upon him. Not to mention the responsibility. He smiled humorlessly.

_I'd bet you'd die to be in my place, won't you, brother dear?_

Turning back to the flower, his grim smile lightened. The dwarf had said that she was special, and he rather agreed with him. And if the surliest creature in all of his kingdom had noticed and been affected by it, it must be true.

Such a pity that the only gift he cared about would wilt and die so quickly, he thought, brushing his fingers on the silken petals. Unless...

Placing the flower flat on his palm, he used his unoccupied hand to conjure a crystal. He watched patiently as the insubstantial air materialized as bands of different colored lights, entwining with themselves and encased Sarah's present in them. When the lights had completely ensconced it, he observed his handiwork closely.

A dark yellow gemstone hung on a simple chain, and when the fading rays of the sun struck the pendant, he could clearly see what lay beneath its surface. Satisfied with the results, he placed it around his neck.

He never took it off ever since.

* * *

What do you think? Please review!

I hope that Hoggle isn't OOC. He might be slightly braver than the Hoggle in the movie. I also hope that the chapter was understandable - I was a little rushed when I wrote this. Forgive me too for the typo or grammar errors.

Tests and quizzes are rather frustrating. I need a hug. Better yet, reviews, please.

A really depressed writer signing out.

* * *

_Chapter 6:_

_"I think that Marigold is, um... bright."_


	6. Chapter 6

Oh my god! I'm sorry for the extreme delay! I've been down in the dumps lately. Someone said something to me which made me doubt my writing skills. I'm not a bad writer, am I? Maybe I am, to make you wait for the next chapter so long. I hope you haven't lost interest in this.

I almost forgot: Disclaimer for all chapters - Labyrinth is not mine.

Review replies:

Aurinko: Thank you! I'm glad that you noticed the Labyrinth elements I included. I'm sorry for the delay!

Jack Hawksmoor: Thanks! Wow, I'm impressed that you noticed the tension between Jareth and Hoggle, and yes, something did happen between them before. More about the Goblin King's brother soon!

Gotta Dance 88: Hehe...Hoggle had to be a bit braver, and I'm glad that you don't think he was OOC. Thanks!

notwritten: Thank you! Just like I said before, I'm terribly sorry for the delay.

The Mad Maiden: I love Hoggle too! And I love writing about interactions between Jareth and Hoggle (oh, the insults I could think of! Plus words starting with Hog- : Hogwash, Hogsnout, Hogfeed... got any more ideas?) Sorry for the delay!

Natsuko37: I'd love to accept your hug...I had a cold too! It didn't get any better...I just received my test results; and I completely broke down. Hehe. Now my classmates think I'm crazy. Thanks for wishing me luck! More about Jareth's brother soon!

Moonspun Dragon: The answers to your questions will be coming soon! Sorry for the delay!

dragoneyes171986: Here's the update! Sorry for making you wait!

* * *

_Goldilocks, Goldilocks _

_Thou art so fine_

_With hair so golden _

_And eyes that shine_

The ornate, ancient doors guarding the library doors opened slightly and a head of mahogany locks peeked in, aquamarine eyes glinting with curiosity.

She tilted her head, interest aroused, and feeling much like the little girl with the sunshine-yellow hair gazing at the quaint homey cottage of the Three Bears for the first time.

But unlike Goldilocks, it would be perfectly okay if she were to enter, right? It wouldn't be intruding. You can't trespass with permission. And she did have one! The Goblin King gave her a go-ahead days ago.

And there weren't any three bowls of porridge she could eat here. Not that she would. She already ate breakfast, after all. Eating when full is not good – she might get a tummy ache. But she was getting off track.

There weren't any beds to sleep on, and small, baby bear-sized stools to ruin. All there were shelves, lined together to form aisles in between. Austere looking tables and stiff-backed chairs were impeccably arranged similar to stone-faced soldiers heading towards war. Instruments and objects of unusual appearances seemed somber from her vantage.

Having convinced that nothing bad would happen once she entered, Sarah pushed the door wider and stepped in.

The books got even more numerous! Their musty scent permeated the air; not really unpleasant, for the open windows provided adequate ventilation and lighting. In fact, she rather liked it. Old parchment here smelt nice.

Seated at the widest, strictest table was an old man who rather resembled a wizard hunched over thick stacks of papers and tomes more intimidating than her father's law books.

"What are you doing here, lass?" he asked, adjusting the wiry spectacles slipping on the bridge of his nose.

Sarah curtsied. "Good morning, Mr. Stranger, sir," his beard twitched. "I'm Sarah, and I don't mean to intrude, but I was searching for Jareth. Have you seen him?"

"Call me Eldred, Sarah," he replied, giving her a smile under his snow-white moustache. "I'm afraid that his Majesty has not expressed his presence in this area, lass. I believe that he is arranging the accommodations for the guests."

She perked up. "Guests?" Wow, more people to know!

Eldred chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Why, yes, Little Sarah. Lady Ilona and her daughter Marigold is due to arrive to day. Marigold is around your age, I think."

"Would she be adverse to the idea of becoming my friend, Eldred?"

"Marigold is generally an agreeable girl; I am convinced that you two would go along splendidly."

Sarah smiled. Another playmate! Oh, she can hardly wait!

She didn't notice how long it took her companion to respond, and how he grimaced upon remembering exactly how 'agreeable' Ilona's beloved child was.

Seeing the lass turn silent and was not going to speak soon, he picked up his quill and resumed writing, scratches on the parchment serving as the only noise in the otherwise solemn room.

Sarah stepped closer and sat atop the stiff chair near him, observing the official-looking documents he was pouring over.

"You remind me of someone," she announced.

He chuckled, staring at her from the corner of his eye.

"He wouldn't be Merlin by any chance, would he?"

"Do you know him, Eldred? He really exists?" she asked, eyes wide.

He nodded in acquiesce. "He's a really good friend of mine. We went to school together."

"How come he's so known in our world?

"Merlin prefers to stay Aboveground, even as a chap," he paused to refill his quill in the inkwell. "He had a love for showing off magic in front of the humans, but nevertheless a good fellow. When he visits, I'll be sure to introduce you to him."

He shook his head amusedly, stopping to gaze faraway to a place she couldn't see.

She rested her chin on her clasped hands on the table, letting him have a few minutes to himself, before letting her curiosity take over her again.

Her eyes were now directed at the impressive pile which never seemed to shrink despite the numerous documents Eldred had already finished.

"What are you doing, Eldred?"

"His Majesty does not take pleasure in the mundane duties of being a King, I daresay," his beard twitched which she now recognized as a hidden smile. "Paperwork, for instance."

Before she could reply, the library doors opened, their resounding bang shattering the serene quietude of the room.

"Eldred," the Goblin King strode in, immaculate robes flaring. "If I have to listen one more time to that demanding harpy and to her brat of a daughter, I-d" he stopped short, seeing Sarah seated near the unfortunate person he planed to vent his tirade on.

"You were saying?" the older man asked smugly, knowing that Jareth wouldn't speak thusly when his heir was in hearing distance, and, judging from the way he was greeted by one of the Goblin King's heated glares, he realized it too.

"Eldred, what's a harpy?" the little girl in question inquired, making both men turn to look at her.

"It's a particularly irritating woman who talks like a common fishwife," Eldred replied smartly, pleased at his usage of the human simile. "Has His Majesty told you that he and Lady Ilona are related? Brother and sister, in fact."

"A relationship I deeply resent, I tell you," he said to Sarah, making her giggle. "You have no idea how querulous that woman can be. And to my deepest regret, they have arrived sooner than expected, now I find my day entirely ruined."

"Is that the way you should teach a child on how to treat her relations?" Eldred asked sternly, but a playful glint in his eye suggested that he was merely jesting.

The Goblin King shrugged majestically, the sequins sewn on his cloak catching the morning light pouring in the somber room.

"Sarah has quite a vast knowledge on the art of interaction, as she had most probably demonstrated to you," he replied, making her smile at the compliment. "It would be rather repetitive to give her lessons regarding that. In addition, I know perfectly well how adept she is at distinguishing right from wrong."

"Better than you, in my opinion."

He nodded, not rising up to the bait. "Better than me."

"Jareth!" Sarah said, devastated. "You're letting poor Eldred do all the paperwork! What if he wanted to play outside?"

The Goblin King grinned, unrepentant.

"If there weren't any boring paperwork, why in the name of Underground would I keep Eldred around for?" he questioned, making the old man clutch his heart in his hand in mock-outrage. "Besides, 'poor' Eldred is too old to play outside."

"You're never too old for playtime," Eldred corrected sagely, seriously adjusting his spectacles.

"You are," retorted Jareth. Turning toward Sarah, he asked, "Well? Are you coming?"

"Where are we going?"

"Where else? Anywhere away from here. Are you telling me that you would prefer to stay in a stuffy, dusty library with only a senile old coot for company?"

"Youngsters nowadays. Absolutely no respect for their elders," the wizened man shook his head, and turned with a smile to Sarah. "Excluding you, of course. Do me a favor and look after the immature one playing dress-up as Goblin King, won't you, Sarah? I wouldn't want him to get into trouble."

"Watch it, old man," the Goblin King drawled. "I hear that the Bog is particularly dreadful this season. Absolutely horrifying."

The older man only chuckled in reply.

"Are you sure that you're okay with just yourself here, Eldred sir?" Sarah asked, hopping down from the serious-looking chair. She was surprised to note that it was a lot comfortable than it looked.

"I'll be fine, little one," he reassured. "Go have fun outside."

"Good luck with the paperwork."

Bidding him goodbye, Sarah followed the Goblin King who was already at the doorway.

"Meet with Ilona later," Jareth ordered, grinning smugly. The last thing Sarah heard when he closed the door was a groan coming from the room's sole occupant.

"What has Eldred tell you before I had arrived?" he asked, slowing down his pace in consideration for his companion.

She shrugged. "Nothing much, Jareth, sir. We haven't talked that long."

"Hmm. And her I thought that the ancient codger would not waster any time airing my 'dirty laundry.'" Retrieving what looked like a pocket watch from his cloak, he frowned.

"Damn," the Goblin King cursed, along with a few more words Sarah had never heard before, even from her parents. He glanced at her sideways.

"Don't let Eldred know you hear me saying that."

She laughed. He rather reminded her of a young boy scared of his father finding out a mischief he had caused.

"What will I get in return?" she asked cheekily.

He stopped in surprise.

"Little brat," he remarked, shaking his head and resumed his lengthy strides. Sarah had a mischievous side he had only recently discovered, but he wasn't even annoyed by it. How intriguing.

"I mean it, Jareth," Sarah insisted, smile broadening.

The Goblin King heaved a melodramatic sigh.

"Very well, o sly little one. What must I do to ensure your silence?"

"Now we're talking," she rubbed her hands conspiratorially, like the villains she had seen in the movies. But the girl stopped with a sheepish smile. "Er…I'll tell you when the time is right."

He laughed. "Which I interpret as you have no idea what to ask. We really should improve on your skills of manipulation."

They lapsed into silence.

"What is wrong, Jareth, sir?" she questioned, seeing a frown worry his brow when quietude catapulted him further in his thoughts.

"Nothing of consequence, Sarah. A little irritated, that's all, but not by you."

She giggled. "By the guests?"

"From your tone I gather that you are thrilled by their coming."

"Yes, I am! Eldred told me about them. They seem very nice."

Jareth didn't reply, merely glancing at his pocket watch again.

"I'm afraid that we have to cut our tour short, Sarah," he said regrettably. "Unless you want to meet the new arrivals?"

The little girl clapped her hands delightedly. "Oh, I can hardly wait!"

"I just hope that you won't be too disappointed, Sarah," he muttered, too low for her to hear.

So sorry that she didn't meet Ilona and Marigold! It was supposed to be in this chapter but I decided to split it. I'll upload it sooner if I get more reviews. Sorry if there are typos and if the chapter is short.

I hope that I'm not butchering up Jareth's character too much. Or the others.

Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

Hello! Oh my stars, I hadn't meant to make you people wait this long. I'm so sorry! I thought you had lost interest in this. Thanks to _Aperio, _though, who spurred me to write with her review. My muse (whom I call Penny) felt so guilty that she insisted that I write at once.

Anyway, thank you people for the encouragement you gave me. You made me so happy! And because our school vacation is fast approaching (we only have one more week), I could update a lot faster. Hurray!

* * *

_Wow,_ she thought, hardly daring to breathe, as she was prone to do whenever faced with something so..._magnificent._

If Sarah was asked to define the word 'beauty' , she would probably call to mind the vision which the two guests had made: long, silky locks of golden sunshine flowing like a smooth, endless river down their slender backs, skin as fair and as velveteen as feathers from the doves which had happened to pass by the park when she was around one day, and eyes bluer than the deepest ocean and lovelier than the clearest sky. Both had donned on resplendent gowns completing the pretty princess picture.

She could see the resemblance they had with Jareth, though. He had the same-shaded hair, if a bit lighter and silvery. The profile was there: high cheekbones, elegant eyebrows, and the arrogant tilt of the chin. But his eyes were different – why were they mismatched?

Sarah would hate to admit it, but the longer she stared, the more it hurt to look at the arrivals. They just were so..._bright._ Maybe it was because of the fact that their hair and gowns were of the same color, or maybe it was her faulty eyes. She sometimes read rather late into the night without sufficient light, and her mother had remarked that she would ruin her eyes later in her life and that she would need dorky eyeglasses if she continued. Sarah had quit her habit when her mother had said that. After all, she needed no more reasons for her classmates to tease her. She got enough mocks and jeers without the aid of dorky glasses, thank you.

_Her mummy. _It didn't hurt so much when Sarah thought about her now. Maybe they were finally happy. Maybe it was best for her to come here.

"Sarah, this is Ilona and Marigold," Jareth introduced in a rather aloof tone. He sounded...bored. "Ilona, Marigold, this is Sarah."

The little girl smiled and curtsied, but was puzzled when the two females barely acknowledged her presence with a glance. She didn't notice Jareth's eyes narrowing at them.

"Jareth," the one named Ilona said in a saccharine voice without preamble. "I have seen the room we are to stay in and I can say that I am not pleased by it. Not pleased indeed. It is not to my liking. I require a bigger one. And the servant girl you assigned was absolutely horrendous. I want her out of my sight and out of the castle. Immediately."

"As you wish, my _dear _sister," he drawled. Sarah recognized that he emphasized word 'dear' in a tone he usually reserved for the people he disliked. He grinned at her subtly, knowing that she was the only one who noticed.

Apparently oblivious to their silent interaction, she continued without batting an eyelash. "It better be. And look at the state of this place!" she exclaimed, making an encompassing gesture with a dramatic flare of her hand to indicate her surroundings. "Mother would be so disappointed. What would she say?"

Sarah looked around and saw nothing wrong. Everything was in perfect order, and she knew for a fact that the goblins limited their mess to the smaller throne room, where the King allowed them free rein and where he conducted his 'business affairs.' Which still remained _mysterious, _for Rosalie still refused to tell her what the King was doing.

She felt someone's stare on her. Turning slightly, she saw the girl called Marigold watching her coolly with impassive eyes. Sarah tentatively smiled back. The blonde girl's expression did not change, but she shifted her gaze back to her mother.

"Perhaps you would prefer to hold this conversation in a more secluded venue?" Jareth asked, gritting his teeth. He wanted to strangle something. Most favorably his sister's dainty little neck for being the obnoxious and demanding harpy she was. The thought made him smile darkly. Why in all the thirteen hours of time had she and her brat decide to drop by on such an inopportune moment?

Ilona's eyes slid over to where Sarah stood, and gave a small laugh. The sound was delicate, pleasing – like wind chimes tolling in a faraway valley – but it sent insecure shivers down the dark-haired girl's spine… made her feel small and uncomfortable.

"Ah…wouldn't like unwanted audience, would you?" she asked, giving a little understanding nod of her head. "Very well. Show me to the rooms, brother dear. Marigold, sweetie, are you going to be fine if Mummy leaves you alone for a few minutes?"

"Yes, Mother," the child replied. Her voice was smooth, like rich, pure honey. Sweet and melodic.

Jareth sent a glance at Sarah, which she couldn't interpret. A warning, perhaps?

"Good." With a thud of the door, the two children were left alone.

Marigold stood motionless at first, but with a few, graceful and precise steps, she crossed the expanse of the room and sat on a chair farther away from the dark-haired girl, settling her hands delicately on her lap. She waited patiently, hardly moving a muscle.

Sarah walked to the window to see her potential friend-to-be. Marigold seemed to be a bit older than Sophia. And with her sitting so still as if posing for a portrait, she looked like a porcelain doll.

She remembered seeing one in the window of an antique shop she used to pass by when going to school before. The doll had a head of flaxen curls, her alabaster skin gleamed in the light, and was wearing a pretty blue dress with frills and laces. She had sat on a little wooden chair facing the passers-by, and her painted turquoise eyes unblinkingly stared straight ahead.

Sarah had been walking home from school one day feeling particularly down. Her classmates had been laughing because she had told them that goblins and fairies were real and she had seen them in her closet. But her sadness had quickly evaporated when she first saw the doll right across the street. Since then, she had made it a point to make a detour to the emporium every single day. There she was - her hands and face pressed on the cool, smooth glass, staring down longingly at the toy for hours. It had really been rainy and cold one instance when the shopkeeper took pity and ushered her in, making a steaming cup of milk to restore warmth to her freezing frame. They had been friends since then. Best of all, Mrs. Carruthers, the owner of the shop, had allowed her to be better acquainted with the toy. Sarah had been able to touch the doll's hair, which felt like silk sliding through her fingers, and see that her dress had small sequins sewn on it.

The little girl never thought of asking how much the doll costs, for she knew that something so beautiful would be unattainable for her. For those moments, she was content to watch.

Then the unthinkable happened.

She was skipping to the store excitedly, a wad of bills tightly grasped in one small fist. It was her birthday, and her parents had given her enough money to keep her out of their hair. Maybe...maybe it was enough to bring her little friend home.

Heart thudding madly in her chest, she turned to the last corner and gazed expectantly at the foggy window shop.

Only to find an unoccupied, small doll chair, Mrs. Carruther's apologetic face, and a man exiting the shop with a child holding a doll-sized box.

Sarah faintly heard something shattering which sounded a lot like her heart breaking into a million tiny pieces.

"It's quite rude to stare, you know."

Blinking the flashback out of her eyes, she saw Marigold watching her coolly. Sarah smiled sheepishly.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Marigold," she apologized, stepping closer to the seated girl.

The golden-haired child tilted her head slightly, the way haughty aristocrats do when they find something not worth of their time.

"You said my name," she said matter-of-factly.

Sarah frowned, wondering what it was about. "Yes, I did. Is there something wrong?"

"Nobody says my name without my permission."

She brightened up, the frown on her face disappearing. "Oh, how silly of me! Should I ask for your permission, then?"

The younger girl asked this without guile, truly interested in the other's answer, but Marigold glared at her.

"Are you mocking me?"

"What! Oh no, Mari – um, little-miss-lady-with-pretty-colored-hair. I wondered if you'd allow me to say your name. Friends can't be friends not without saying their first names, you know."

An odd emotion flashed in Marigold's eyes, before resuming her usual ennui.

"You can't say my name until I allow you to."

The small girl deflated visibly. Marigold felt smug at this, but an unnamed emotion crept through her psyche. But before she could analyze it, her mortal companion perked up immediately.

"If I can't say your name, I'll just call you something else!"

"What –"

"It's nice to meet you, Mari-flower!"

Marigold choked, horrified beyond belief.

"Is there something wrong, Mari-flower? It is such a pretty nickname. I couldn't come up with a better idea than that! But I think, maybe I did. Did I?" Sarah asked the speechless girl.

When the golden-haired child got her composure back, she finally found her voice to speak and utter a proper dressing down for the impudent peasant.

"Listen, mortal. I never liked little brown rats with freaky eyes that steal food from other – _more deserving –_ people's plates. I absolutely abhor them. Not to mention I find them and their mindless chatter extremely annoying."

Sarah nodded wisely, imitating Eldred at his sagest moment. Her new friend knew such many big words! Though she did wonder why Marigold mentioned rodents at such a time. Perhaps she thought to warn her?

"I don't like them too, Marigold. Their eyes are too red, but I've never seen a brown rat before. Are there brown rats here in the Underground? Have you seen one? Of course you do! Don't be afraid, some rats are awfully nice, like squirrels. At least, I think they are. Are they rodents? Maybe I should ask Jareth …"

For the first time in years, Marigold was beyond irritated. She never had the urge to stamp her foot in consternation for princesses never threw fits and always got what they want. How dare this – this mortal misunderstand her subtle insult? How dare she mock her so?

"You're missing the whole point!" Marigold interrupted. She never felt this angry before.

Sarah tilted her head in response, as if puzzling at a most complex riddle. "Did I? What point am I missing, Mari-flower?"

Marigold's eye ticked in hearing the pet name. "I know you are not dense, Mortal, with what little intelligence humans have. You're missing the whole point on purpose!"

More frazzled and bewildered in any moment of her life, Marigold left without saying goodbye, muttering something about some unbelievably dense creatures who drive normal people - Fae people - crazy.

Sarah stood in her wake, speculating how _odd _her new friend was, indeed.

* * *

"Oohh! I would do anything just to slap her pretty face silly!"

Sarah listened to her friend, amused, but with no small amount of trepidation, in hearing the petty threats in her tone. The moment Sophia had seen the expression on her face after meeting Marigold, she took it as a bad sign and vented off a plethora of complaints on the blond princess.

Moving her gaze at the labyrinth from atop one of the many towers of the castle, Sarah regarded her friend calmly.

"That's not very nice, Sophia."

Sophia was prone to blow her top at every given chance, but Sarah could see that she was fiercely protective about the people (and creatures) she cared for.

The girl in question whirled at her, her red hair seemingly ablaze with her temper and crazed eyes glinting a malevolent black. Sarah was immensely glad that the red-haired was not mad at her. She was slowly starting to believe that the color of a person's hair had something to do about his or her temperament.

"Nice? Nice?! What that – that-" The younger child had to duck at her companion's flailing arms. "-little monster probably told you was a lot, lot worse!"

A frown marred Sarah's brow.

"No it was not!" she said in protest. "She mentioned being annoyed and a trifle scared about brown rats with freaky eyes, that's all. Plus, she let me give her a nickname. She didn't like it when people called her by her name without her permission, which I did so foolishly. But now, I get to call her Mari-flower! Isn't that nice?"

Sophia's face reddened as she kept her silence. As much as she wanted to tell truthfully what exactly did that little brat meant by her comment, she just couldn't bear to see the exuberant young girl's face crumple in disappointment. She didn't want Sarah to lose her innocent perspective of the world and the people in it. The red haired was quite sure that 'Mari-flower' never meant 'real' rats.

The redhead had viewed so much of the world, and what she has seen had made her jaded, less trusting of the people she meets. But with Sarah, her usual justified prejudice hadn't sprung up.

"And besides," her companion continued, drawing Sophia out of her grim thoughts. "Why do you immediately think that Mari-flower said something bad? She might come off far too strong, or frank, or maybe a tad offensive, but-"

"She once said that my hair was redder than a fire truck engine."

A giggle erupted from Sarah's lips by its own volition, making her friend narrow her gaze at her.

"It's not funny, you know."

"You must admit, Sophia, it really is too red."

"It's not!"

"It is. But it's really pretty too."

"You think so?" she fingered an errant lock of burgundy hair dubiously. The dark-haired child smiled inwardly. She knew how much Sophia loved her hair.

When Sophia's temper apparently cooled, Sarah added, "You know, Mari-flower might have meant it as a compliment."

Fire had leapt back at her dark eyes at hearing the disliked name.

"How in Merlin's name did you come to think of that?"

Sarah shrugged. "I used to thing that fire trucks had a rather pretty shade of color, but it will really be cooler if it was…um, redder and a little bit brighter," she smiled. "Like…yours. And besides, why would Marigold compare your beautiful hair with the color of a fire truck, something so unusual here? I'll be a tiny bit flattered if you ask me."

Sophia sent a deep, probing gaze at her, as if attempting to figure her out.

"Sometimes it scares me how grown-up you seem to be," she complained. "Shouldn't you be the one complaining about that little witch and I should reassure you?"

Sarah gave her a chiding smile. "Silly Sophia might be older than Little Sarah, but Little Sarah knows which one of them is more mature."

The redhead rolled her eyes at her 'third person parlance.' "And who does little Sarah think is more mature? Silly Sophia or Little Sarah?"

Sarah gave a cute little frown, as if an adult was suggesting to her that the moon was made of cheese, something she knew was ridiculous since the age of three.

"Silly Sophia should've realized that Little Sarah uttered a rhetorical statement. That makes Silly Sophia sillier than ever."

Sophia's eyes widened and rolled her eyes at her companion again. "How in the world would a six year old know what a rhetorical statement is?"

The younger girl drew herself up to her full height, which hardly made a difference since she was small, and looked up at the redhead mock-condescendingly.

"I read. You should try it sometime, Sophia. It might not hurt your poor brain if you don't try too hard."

"Very funny. I think you spend too much time in His Majesty's company. You've apparently gotten his sarcasm, no disrespect intended."

"He got it from me," Sarah replied smugly.

Sophia rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time. She noticed that she was prone to do so whenever she was in the presence of the younger girl.

"His Majesty is right. You _are _a brat."

Sarah preened at the 'praise.'

"I know."

But seeing Sarah's bright, teasing smile which coaxed out one of hers, Sophia knew she wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Oops! Marigold is pissed at Sarah! I do think that she has a tendency to drive people crazy. But I think that is part of her charm and makes her more adorable!

Marigold is such a hard character to write. I had so many revisions of her. She was originally a lot meaner to little Sarah. I hope she is believable.

Please review!

* * *

_Chapter 8:_

_"Sometimes I wonder how you came to be related to such an evil little witch, Toby,"Sophia said to the newcomer dryly._


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Hehe...sorry for the delay. (yet again) But vacation proved to be so much fun, just as I have fantasized about it when I was languishing in classes. And our local bookstores had a summer sale, selling books at very low prices, and I got crazy and bought every interesting one available. I bought them about last month and up to now, I am not done reading them. We had to install a new shelf. And my allowance had dropped to nil. But it was worth it. Sorry for rambling and on with the story!

* * *

_Goldilocks, Goldilocks_

_Why can't we be?_

_Best friends forever _

_And not enemies?_

_

* * *

_

A pair of feet clattered up noisily on the flight of stone steps leading to the tower where Sarah and Sophia were. The two girls looked up at the newcomer.

A young boy of about Sophia's age stood on the topmost step. Despite his youthful, slightly rounded cheeks, Sarah thought that he would grow into a fine young man someday. He had soft, blond hair common to the Underground people, and his almond-shaped eyes where the bluest shade of turquoise she had ever seen. His lips were often curved into a mischievous, crooked little smile.

Sarah smiled fondly at him. Toby was the nice boy who had given her the pretty flower at the first time she had been here, and Sophia had introduced both of them to each other.

"Sometimes I wonder how you came to be related to such a wicked little witch, Toby," Sophia said in greeting, referring to Marigold, who Toby claimed to be some distant cousin. Very distant.

Toby didn't answer, as he appeared not to have heard her remark.

"Hello, Little Sarah," he said, patting the small girl's head. "My don't you look so pretty today!"

Sophia snorted good-humoredly. Not that she didn't agree, but Toby could be such an exaggerated flatterer at times.

He turned his head to her and asked innocently, "Hello to you too, Sophie-dear!" he greeted using his nickname for her. "Would you like a pat on the head, too?"

He frowned when the redhead didn't reply with her usual snappish retort, and directed his questioning gaze to Sarah's unreadable face.

"My, what has got you two all a-bothered?"

"Oh nothing much," Sophia said sarcastically. "Nothing but a little stuck-up, spoiled, blonde princess with pretty ponies, garish gowns, and an annoying, holier-than-thou attitude. Thinking about that pampered brat makes me so irritated!"

Toby laughed at the sour expression on Sophia's face.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say that you're mightily jealous of Marigold, dear Sophie," he teased.

The girl sputtered indignantly. "I am not! And my name's Sophia."

"Yes you are. You certainly look like jealous, _Sophie-dear._"

"Am not!"

"Am too!"

Sarah watched their discourse amusedly. Sophia and Toby had the weirdest friendship ever. What could very well start as an amicable, harmless conversation could end as a fiery, heated exchange of words. Yet, both had insisted that they were the best of friends.

The dark-haired girl shrugged to herself. Maybe that's what it meant to be like 'cats and dogs.' As long as their peculiar method of friendship worked, who was she to interfere? But at the moment, she saw the need to step in and act as a mediator before they got lost and silly in their arguments again. That tended to happen a lot.

"Okay, children," she said in her best, grown-up teacher's voice, making both of them look at her. That voice often worked in catching their attention. "Let's act like rational, logical people here." She raised a hand when they opened their mouths to protest. Still in teacher mode, Sarah continued, "And don't even think of getting started with the 'he/she started it argument.' Sophia, you know that Toby is just kidding. Toby, please stop teasing Sophia."

Sarah gave herself a rewarding pat on the back when both of them grew silent. Though it did not last long when Sophia huffed and crossed her arms.

"You're doing it again, Sarah," she said.

Toby raised an eyebrow. "She's doing what?"

"Being the smart, sensible adult instead of the foolish, silly little kid she has every right to be!"

The six-year old was confused about Sophia's insistence that she act like her age. Didn't adults tell children to 'grow up'?

"Sometimes you have to act grown up so as not to be hurt, Sophia. It's better that way," Sarah said softly. When Sophia and Toby were at a lost for words, Sarah decided to change the subject.

"Yeah, Sophia," Toby remarked, using her real name for a change and diffusing the serious atmosphere effectively. "There's nothing wrong with Little Sarah! I like her the way she is."

He earned a grateful smile from the smaller girl.

"Your cousin is so nice, Toby!" she chirped happily, so vastly different from her tone earlier than even Toby blinked in surprise. "She's so pretty and well...um...,good. She said that she was awfully 'fraid of rats, and she doesn't like it when people call her name. Without permission. But, Mari-flower let me call her Mari-flower! Ain't that superbly great?"

The lad choked in surprise. "She let you call her that?"

She nodded vigorously in reply; ignoring Sophia's disgruntled 'humph!' that had been strangely silent all the while.

Just then, the tower clock tolled its sixth hour, the sonorous sound reverberating through the stone walls. Sarah could feel her ears ringing and clapped her hands over them, seeing the other two children do the same.

"I swear, that thing gets louder every hour," Sophia complained above the noise. Realizing the time, she gasped audibly. "Oh no! Toby, we're going to be so late! Cook's going to fry us for sure!"

"I'm sure dear Cook is not going to do that, Sophie. You won't taste good. Nobody would eat you," Toby replied. "I, on the other hand, am going to be a very tasty dessert."

"Go ahead and be late. I think I'd prefer it if you were a dessert anyway," Sophia shot back. "All the better for me, with no Toby to bother me."

"I think you would miss me too much, _Sophie,"_ he replied. "What would you do without me?"

"Lots of things, Toby. Lots of things."

With a last friendly goodbye, the two children went off to fulfill their kitchen duties. Though their bickering didn't cease. Sarah could still hear their voices arguing long after they were gone.

Her gaze flickered back to the Labyrinth. She would never tire of watching it during different times of the day. Especially on this hour. It was just the moment when the sun nestled deeply on the western skies and the moon rose on the eastern horizon. After millenniums of chasing each other, that particular hour was just the moment when the sun's majestic rays can touch the luminescent surface of the lovely moon.

She hoped that Sophia did not take offense about the comment she said earlier about being grown-ups. But that was the way it should be, in order not to get hurt when childish hopes were dashed mercilessly on the ground. An adult's logical, realistic mind could solve a problem faster than a child's bright, optimistic perspective of the world. It was what landed her in the Labyrinth, wasn't it? Her brain had told her that her parents won't be able to take care of her and that she should look after herself. And she came up with a rational idea: wishing herself away.

But if she did think with an adult mind, she wouldn't believe that such a place existed in the first place, right? After all, the Labyrinth defied every scientific law in history. Goblins, Twenty-six hours in a day, and a magical king who grants wishes? Adults would surely laugh at that. They would not even entertain a notion that such things were real.

"I see you've found my favorite haunt."

Sarah whirled and found the Goblin King leaning on the wall across from her, his face half in shadow. She did not even wonder how he got there without her hearing his footsteps; Goblin Kings were supposed to be mysterious like that.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Hello, Jareth, sir."

"And here I thought I would get some peace and quiet, for a change. But I am denied even that – I find a brat disturbing my sanctuary" Striding over to her side, he swung himself over the ledge and sat on the window. Under the waning light, Sarah saw that he wasn't serious and merely joking.

"Were you talking to a boy earlier?" he asked gazing down at her upturned face.

"Why yes, sir."

"Try to avoid him. He's bad news." _You're too young to be interested in boys. I do not fancy explaining to you about the birds and the bees this early. Not in any point of your life, either. If I can help it._

But, knowing her unquenchable curiosity, she probably knew about the 'facts of life' already.

She laughed when she saw him scowl. "Why? You're not going to tell me that he has cooties, are you? 'Cause I know that it's not true. And if it was, then I need to stay away from you too."

He scowled deeper and grimaced. "How did your parents make you behave if you have enough common sense not to believe that there are monsters under your bed or that boys have a contagious allergy?"

Her eyes widened. "You mean that there really are no monsters under my bed? I've been awfully afraid that they were going to take me away!" she smiled at his unbelieving stare. "Thanks for telling me, though."

"You are so full of contradictory personalities, Sarah," he commented, adjusting his gloves as he spoke. "How you could alternate between a crazy child and a sensible adult is beyond me. Very well. If I can't scare you into behaving by using the normal methods, maybe I should just tell Rosalie that a little spank or two is in order if you misbehave?"

She grinned while shaking her head. "You can't do that Mr. Goblin King, sir. I've read that corporal punishment is illegal and thereby banned by the law. And you like me too much for that kind of treatment" she added cheekily.

He rolled his eyes. Quite uncharacteristically, Sarah thought.

"Careful, brat. You're treading on risky waters," he mock-warned. "What would my subjects say if they heard that? Soon, they would entertain the impression that I, their evil overlord, am 'nice.' How can I scare them into submission?"

"Oh no! They would love you even more! And they would probably ask you for some puppies." At the weird glance he shot at her, she crossed her arms defensively. "What? Everybody likes puppies."

Her brows knitted in confusion. "What's contra-contradic'try means?"

"Let me get this straight. You've read a book about law that no kid should understand, much less a six-year old, and you don't know the meaning of 'contradictory' ?"

"Yup!" she replied happily. "Though it was more than one book. I got interested in them when they always like to fly towards me," she then launched into an explanation about her parents and how they liked to throw things at each other. But the law books had a tendency to head towards her, she said solemnly.

" - and I merely forgot what that word meant." her look of concentration got deeper. "Aha! Now I remember! _Contradictory – adjective. Involving or having the nature of a contradiction; inconsistent. Given to contradicting."_

Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming. He couldn't remember himself being a cheeky child. He really should heed Eldred's advice and start her education soon.

"And I guess that was verbatim from a dictionary. Just how smart are you, little brat?"

Sarah's grin turned mischievous. "More and less than you think, Jareth."

"I should really see Eldred for your studies," he muttered.

Sarah didn't comment on that. Studying meant school. School meant bullies. Not that she didn't like school or studying, but the prospect of meeting bullies dampened her enthusiasm. Oh, she hoped that there were no mean kids in the schools here!

Her companion frowned. Flicking his fingers in midair, he conjured three crystal spheres, letting them fluidly pass over his hands while the little girl watched, transfixed.

"Why the long face, brat?" he asked, using his usual nickname for her. Strangely, she didn't mind it. Not at all. "You seem – melancholic."

"Mel'ncholic," she automatically replied, tongue accidentally stumbling over a syllable. _"Adjective. Gloomy or depressed; sad."_

The Goblin King raised an eyebrow, his customary response at amusement or puzzlement, though aware that she used the definition to change the subject. It was rather handy method of switching topics, he supposed.

"You're definitely not normal," he announced to her. "What do they teach you in those schools?"

"That is a rhetorical question, right? You only asked it for effect. So I'm not supposed to answer."

"Of all the annoying children in the Aboveground, why did I pick a brat who talks like a dictionary?"

"Ah. Now that is no longer rhetoric," Sarah quipped. "That is called 'melodramatics.' Also known as 'exaggeration.' Plus, you couldn't stand being with those 'other children' so you got stuck with me."

"True," he admitted. "I'd rather choose a cheeky, smart-mouthed brat over a kid who picks his nose all day."

Her face scrunched up in disgust at his comparison, and she crossed her arms. "Contrary to your belief, Jareth sir, children aren't that bad. And besides, how do you know I don't indulge in the habit of nose-picking myself? It seems rather fun."

"Please tell me you don't," he said. "Or else a certain dwarf who goes by the name of _Hogwash _would find himself tipped headfirst in the Bog, and you know how dreadful that would be."

Sarah was silent for a moment before she burst out of laughter.

"I don't, now stop worrying," she reassured. "But it was worthwhile to see the look of horror on your face earlier."

He scowled, making her laugh again.

"Why don't you like Hoggle, Jareth? He seems rather nice."

"'Rather nice' is an understatement. 'Perfectly horrible' if I do say so myself."

She rolled her eyes and he grinned, but before he could pursue the real intent as to why he talked to her in the first place, the little girl gasped suddenly and dashed off to the stairs.

"Oh, I'm very sorry, Jareth sir. I need to go."

A quick glance at the clock told him that it was time for her to meet her 'feathery' friend, so he let her go.

"Don't run down the stairs, brat," he warned. "I don't want to see the servants picking up broken bones downstairs." It was rather morbid in his opinion, but at least he got the point across when he heard her frantic pace slow down.

"No you won't" she called out cheerfully. "I'll be careful, I promise. Bye-bye!"

When he could not see nor hear her, and was quite alone in the circular tower, Jareth cursed soundly. Now, how was he to know what the harpy-in-training told Sarah when he was busy showing her equally spiteful mother the new rooms delegated to them? He had not noticed anything odd in Sarah's disposition, but was that enough to assure him that his spoiled niece had not said something insulting to his heir apparent? His mortal charge was especially good at hiding emotions that would upset others and make them worry for her – that much he knew.

But why he cared so much about it remained a mystery.

Taking off to the skies in his avian form, he made his way to the window where an expectant little child was waiting for him avidly.

'Mr. Owl' will find out what was wrong and what he can do about it.

* * *

"How dare that – that mortal make fun of me!"

The 'harpy-in-training,' as the Goblin King had so _kindly_ (albeit privately) dubbed her, complained to her 'equally spiteful mother' later that night.

"You should have heard the audacity with which she had spoken, Mother! Why, you wouldn't believe it!" Marigold fumed, pacing in front of the cushioned settee where her mother sat half-listening, half-contemplating the complications in her plans.

"She stared directly at my person, Mother! As if she was my equal, as if she was worthy to be in my presence! I am not sure if she possesses even an ounce of manners, or if she chose not to employ them, having taking into consideration a ghastly notion that I would desire her company, moreso her friendship! And you would be appalled to know that she had come up with an unflattering diminutive of my name."

Ilona watched as the little girl ranted and raved at her earlier encounter with the supposed heir.

"You certainly do have a lot of things to say about the mortal, Marigold," she idly commented, picking up a half-filled cup of tea on a nearby table and sipped daintily. "One might say that you are…threatened. By her."

The child's comely face flushed an unbecoming red.

"I am not jealous of her, Mother. And I do _not_ consider her a threat," she said hotly. "However could you have assumed such a ridiculous perception?"

Ilona focused her attention on the child and looked at her critically.

"A princess does not show her emotions so freely in public," she reprimanded. "Nor should she worry about something -or in this case, _someone -_ which is so clearly below her. Now stand up straight and be silent."

Marigold hung her head, thoroughly chastened, and tried to do as her mother said.

"This certainly complicates things," the older woman mulled, getting up and went for the available desk in the room. "And I can see that my dear brother harbors some…affectionate feelings toward that mortal."

Her daughter opened her mouth in denial but was silenced by a fierce glare. The child frowned and threw herself stubbornly at a nearby chair, crossing her arms as she did so.

Ilona would have scolded her at such impudent behavior at any other time, but her mind was busy formulating the next step in her plan. Her mother would not accept such vermin as the next heir, which conform very nicely. Ah yes. It was brilliant.

Settling herself at the desk and ignoring her still fuming child, she picked a quill and dipped it in ink. She chose her usual lily-scented parchment and proceeded to write in her neat, calligraphic handwriting.

_"Dear Mother. Forgive me for omitting trifle pleasantries, but it has come to my knowledge that my dear brother has yet committed another error of judgment…"_

It was devious indeed.

* * *

I hope that the abundance of OCs does not bother you. But there are very few characters in the movie, and the Underground's backstory was not provided. I suppose that it is advantageous, for fanfic authors to manipulate and think up of creative plots.

Another chapter done! Hurray! I hope that long intervals in updating does not make you lose interest in this, because I promise to finish this story. I know how the events would play out, and how this will end, but I am open for suggestions. I am planning to make this a twenty-chaptered story or so. Please review!


	9. Chapter 9

Hello! Sorry for the late update. Thank you to those who reviewed!

If anyone is interested in Twilight, please check out my new story, _Dimensional Dallying_, and leave a review. I would love to hear what you think. Yes, I know, I'm shamelessly advertising.

On with the story!

* * *

The Goblin King stared coldly at the pathetic figure lying prostrate at his feet.

"What have you to say for yourself?"

The person shuddered and said nothing.

In the background, numerous goblins cavorted wildly – some were chasing the chickens in dizzying circles until their short, stubby legs grew tired from their worthless pursuit; while more than a few were inebriated from drinking Bog Water, bursting into laughter or squeaking a ditty now and then. The Bog Water had quickly been a popular drink amongst them, after he had made the mistake of dumping the most alcohol-crazed goblin headfirst in the bog. The foolish creature, who he now remembered as Booze, broke the surface of the Bog of the Eternal Stench with an ecstatic expression on his face, and began lapping up at the foul-smelling water greedily, as if he tasted ambrosia on his tongue. Booze had refused to come out of the bog since then. Jareth had heard rumors that his alcoholic subject had turned into a new specie of Swamp Monster.

Which put him in quite a fix: if the goblins would jump at the chance to join their brother Booze, what could the Goblin King, _in_famous for his ruthlessness. dole out as punishment?

He tapped his riding crop on his thigh absentmindedly, cowering human in front of him forgotten. He couldn't threaten them with the oubliette when they misbehaved – his minions were too dimwitted to be afraid of the dark. Depriving them of Bog Water was inconceivable for that required him to touch those infernal drinks. Never in a million years would he sully his person with such a malodorous substance.

"Have mercy, milord. I was caught in the heat of the moment. Please give me my son back."

He narrowed his eyes, annoyed at the interruption to the train of his thoughts. Caught in the 'heat of the moment,' was she? With a few whispered words of seduction, he had her eating out of the palm of his hand and she had completely forgotten the babe.

Nondescript brown eyes stared out pitifully from an unremarkable face. He knew her type – she was the kind of woman who would chase at any handsome man who made the misfortune of passing her way. Nothing could make him 'indulge in her charms,' however little she might have.

She was unfit to be a parent. And he was doing everyone a favor by taking the child away from her negligent care.

His gaze flickered to the lad watching his surroundings blankly. The boy shared his mother's ordinary characteristics – although, coupled with his undernourished air, those features lent him a rather feminine appearance. In his baggy clothes, he looked as thin as a stick.

_What would Sarah think of a new playmate?_

His lips quirked bemusedly. How could she invade his thoughts even in the most unexpected moments? The little girl was everywhere in his castle, and now, in his mind as well. Her friendship would do wonders for the scrawny urchin.

The lady apparently believed that the smile was meant for her, because the fine tension on her shoulders relaxed and started to rise.

He scowled and she continued to grovel, sinking lower than her original position.

"Our agreement was that in order to regain your son, you have to run and defeat my labyrinth," Saying whatever her name was on this part could make the threat in his tone more formidable, but he had forgotten her blasted name as soon as she had said it. "And you clearly did not fulfill your term of the bargain."

"But-but you tricked me in your stupid game! You started it!"

"I was not aware that we were playing any games, madam," he smiled sardonically, and took delight at seeing her discomfort grow. "And I had not commenced the initial contact between us. You were the one who wished him away, did you not?"

She sputtered indignantly. "How could I know that the stupid book was telling the truth? You aren't supposed to exist!"

"I assure you that I am of flesh and blood also, and thus, am existing." He whipped the crop in the air and she winced in synchronism. "Nevertheless, the deed is done."

"I'm taking this to court! You couldn't take my child away from me without a fight, Goblin King!"

He laughed sarcastically. "That, madam, was the most amusing announcement I had ever heard." Jareth leaned forward, daring her to meet his eyes. She didn't, and continued to stare at his immaculately polished Hessian boots. "Do you really think that anyone would believe that your child was 'spirited away' by the Goblin King, who in your words, isn't supposed to exist? You would be the laughingstock of the town!"

She might have realized the folly of her declaration for she hung her head in defeat. He tutted at how quickly she had given in. She had not even managed to step in the labyrinth, as he recalled.

"Are ye goin' te' turn him te' a goblin boss?" one of his subjects slurred, heady with Bog Water in the guise of 'fine wine.'

"Goblin! Goblin!" the rest chorused in reply.

The woman's face drained of any color.

"Because I am feeling rather lenient today, I offer you one last chance at redeeming the babe," he said, and the goblins groaned. He had not commanded them to be silent for the appropiate punishment had not come to mind. Ordering them to play with Sarah, perhaps? She was such an energetic moppet, and she would surely wear them out. But they were too dirty and disgusting and imbecilic that he couldn't allow them near her.

"Ask the child if he would be willing to return with you. If he replies negatively, he would be one of these goblins forever."

All the occupants of the Second, Smaller, and Messier Throne Room (as it was called by his servants) swerved toward the child in question.

"Sweetie, do you want to go home with mama?" she asked, casting him a hopeful glance.

The boy looked at Jareth, then turned to her. During his thirteen-hour stay here, he had been pampered, clothed, and fed by the mothering Rosalie, who attended him in extremities. 'Coddled to bits,' as Sarah might have put it. By bewildered look on his face, he wasn't used to such lavish treatment at home. Apparently choosing the lesser of two evils, he shook his head.

Jareth smiled in satisfaction.

"Take her away."

The lad had done nothing when his mother disappeared with an anguished cry, and when the goblins let out raucous cheers and danced around him maladroitly, he merely shuffled his feet in discomfort. As for the foolish wench, she would wake to find the memory of her son and her labyrinth misadventure merely as fragments of a long-forgotten dream. Or nightmare. And for the rest of her life, she will continue to lament the loss of the son she couldn't remember.

She won't ever make the mistake of wishing her children away again. And Sarah would be immensely pleased at the addition to her friends.

A queasy feeling jerked him out of his smug and rejoicing thoughts. He tensed in reaction.

Someone was watching him.

Not the goblins, and certainly not the unresponsive boy, who was now staring at the cracks in the walls as if he found them extremely interesting. He straightened up on his regal chair and looked around.

The usually-locked door to the Second, Smaller, and Messier Throne Room stood ajar.

* * *

Who could possibly be eavesdropping on the Goblin King? This is not good. Find out on the next chapter!

I know it's really short, but my muse is holding the next chapter hostage! The only ransom she could be bribed on are your precious reviews. Please review!

Don't forget to check out _Dimensional Dallying _before you go!


	10. Chapter 10

Well...I did promise to remove the AN as soon as possible. Enjoy!

* * *

_Little Miss Sarah_

_Had no one ever tell you?_

_Eavesdropping is bad, it is not good_

_And will only leave you feeling blue_

* * *

Marigold strode into the pavilion at the Castle's Garden, gliding smoothly at the stone steps. Today, she was wearing a frothy, lace-edged confection with puffed-up sleeves, in a light shade of pink that complimented her hair perfectly, allowing the light to play on its unusual tints of gold and mahogany. The new tweeny might have a harelip, but her hairstyling abilities were good – she had put up curls to frame the left side of her face, emphasizing the beauty mark on her cheek, and weaved flowers in her tresses, an intricate design bound to amaze and dazzle.

In her hand was a small parasol, tilted away from the harsh glint of the sun just so to protect her fine porcelain skin yet still allow anyone viewing the garden from the castle to see her undeniably unusual comeliness. She told herself that anyone would find her as a breath of fresh air after viewing the garish-colored flowers.

She was perfectly aware of her beauty. What was wrong with showing it to the ones not gifted as she? She was the perfect example of the unconditional benevolence of Mother Nature. And it was Marigold's duty to remind them of that.

The girl sat on the chair as delicately as her mother had taught her. Sitting, Ilona had said, is an art. Art needs grace. A princess must be graceful in her every move for she is a work of art herself.

Resisting a sigh, she carefully placed the thick book in her grasp at the table. The downside to being a princess, she decided, was studying. Why dabble at indecipherable, useless lessons when she can easily use the time in parties and dresses?

She scowled. Lightly, not allowing the lines to mar her forehead. Wrinkles were bad for the skin, Ilona told her. And princesses do not get wrinkles. It was unsightly.

Her mother was right. Princesses should be as perfect as can be.

In her opinion, princesses should not be dark-haired little waifs with no royal bloodlines to speak of whatsoever. They should not dally with mud-faced, rowdy servants with dirtied hands. And, more importantly, princesses should not look like miserable, drowned rats themselves.

Princesses should be like her, she supposed. Beautiful, intelligent, and mild mannered with gentle dispositions.

Cracking the book open, she prepared to read the next, incomprehensible paragraph.

A babble of unrestrained, boisterous voices reached her and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

It was _them._

The girl with the scandalously fire-truck red hair and a horrible temper streaked out from nowhere; followed by a chubby, loud-mouthed brat Marigold had the displeasure of calling 'cousin.' They were running around like idiots, probably playing that despicable human game called 'tag.' What was the point of chasing after one another over and over again? It would only make a person hot and sweaty.

_She_ came in last, in a more sedate pace, tugging along a whey-faced stick who only had eyes for her. The newest member of Sarah's rag-tag band was looking at her as if she was the sun, moon and stars herself, and as if he had never seen anything like her.

It was pathetic.

Marigold hoped that they didn't notice her. But her luck apparently ran down the drain because the _rat _ushered the _stick _to where the _pig _and the _fire-truck_ were playing and headed for the pavilion.

"Hello, Mari-flower! Wanna play tag with us? Toby and Sophia would surely like it."

Marigold looked up from the book she was reading and let the contempt she felt shine through her eyes. The oblivious brat might not know it, but her friends hated the blonde as much as she hated them. Maybe more.

Sarah however, wasn't deterred. She was so glad that Mari-flower was there! Her friend looked so pretty, dressed up in gown fit for a princess with the pretty flowers in her hair. Pink was her 'favoritest' color. Sarah could've kicked herself. Of course Mari-flower didn't want to play, much as she wanted to, because her gown will surely be sullied if she did.

The dark-haired girl sat on a vacant chair and waited for her companion to acknowledge her.

Marigold's eye ticked faintly. She had hoped that ignoring the human would make her go away, but she was relentless. How could a mortal be so stubborn?

"Watcha' reading?"

"Nothing you could understand," the blonde said in a lofty tone.

Sarah leaned forward and squinted at the aged, leather-bound cover.

"_Basic Lessons in Fae Magic Theory,"_ she read aloud.

The blonde almost dropped the book in surprise.

"How-how could you read that?" she demanded furiously. It was written in Fae language, and as far as she knew, no mere Abovegrounder could understand it.

"Eldred's been teaching me," she replied proudly. Wistfulness colored her next sentence. "I do wish I could do magic, though. Eldred said that it might not be possible, me being human. But I'm still trying. Concentration is the first step, isn't it? The 'tapping into your inner magic' thing."

Sarah closed her eyes. Holding out her fisted right palm in front of her, she unfurled her fingers one by one. And to the other girl's astonishment, she thought that she saw a little spark of white light before it flickered away.

Marigold, to her own consternation, was horribly fascinated. It wasn't possible! How could a mortal do that?

"It's not just about concentration," she advised grudgingly. She hated to admit that she was curious, but she was! Curiosity really killed the cat. "You have to _believe_ that magic flows in you. Like this," she held out her own hand and in a gesture of practiced ease, a small orb of light materialized in her palm.

Seeing the dark-haired girl's delighted face, Marigold scowled at herself. Deeply, this time, not caring if she do get permanent wrinkles. Why was she helping the human?

"I've been meaning to ask you, Mari-flower," Sarah said, in a change of topic. Then hesitated.

Her companion raised an eyebrow in a fair imitation of Jareth and did not say anything.

Mustering up her courage, the smaller girl asked, "Do you know about Jareth's other audience receiving chamber?"

"You mean, the Second, Smaller, and Messier Throne Room?"

"Yes, yes," her voice dropped to a whisper and she looked around furtively. "What does he do in there?"

"His duties at being the Goblin King, of course." The rat wasn't this daft, was she? Maybe she was. "They say that he uses some of the goblins for kindling, feeds their entrails to the bloodthirsty piranhas at the moat, kidnap children from Aboveground and turn them into horrible monsters, and-" she frowned at Sarah's pale face. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Sarah replied a little too quickly.

Marigold considered the shocked expression on the other's countenance. She couldn't possibly believe such rumors, could she?

A bright idea stuck her.

She knew just the thing to get the mortal in trouble.

"What, you don't believe me?" the older girl sniffed, pretending that she was offended. A princess had to be a good actress, after all.

"No, no," Sarah assured. "Don't cry, I believe you."

Marigold tried to let out a few tears, inwardly grinning. "No, I don't think you do. I-I thought you were my friend! Why won't you believe me?"

Little Sarah felt bad. How could she make Mari-flower cry like that?

"If-if you won't believe me, go see for yourself," the blond said slyly. "Go on, I think something's happening there right now. You have to do what I taught you and the door would budge open."

"What about you?" Sarah asked worriedly. "I'm sorry I made you cry."

"No, don't worry about me," she replied in a tragic tone. "I would feel so much better if you popped in the Second, Smaller, and Messier Throne Room, even for just a second."

Marigold smiled through her crocodile tears, knowing how she looked like a little lost angel which was offered another chance at redemption.

Hook, line, and sinker. Just as the humans would say.

She ignored the odd twinge of..._guilt? _that passed through her, reassuring herself that finally, she could do something about her situation.

* * *

The library doors banged open, and in entered the Goblin King.

He was in a decidedly foul mood today. First, was the catastrophe in dealing with the fool who dared challenge his labyrinth and failed. As expected. Then the mortal predictably tried to ask for the child back. Why wish away perfectly normal kids then change their minds when the big, bad Goblin King comes to collect the brats? He could never understand most humans – their fickle-mindedness hinted at brains made of fluff. Or none at all.

Jareth made for his precious stores of liquor. A quick glance around told him that Eldred was not present, and he could drink as much as he well damn please. No one could stop him at imbibing spirits until he was certifiably foxed.

Then, his glorified harpy of a sister had outpoured her litany of complaints at him. If it wasn't the food being too hot or too cold or not tasty enough, it was: _Jareth, the servants's work gowns should be one-and-a-half inches off the floor, not two!_ Or: _Jareth, the flowers in the garden are too flowery! Change them at once!_

How in the world could flowers be too 'flowery'? They were flowers! And he didn't care if the servant's gowns were too long or too short, as long as they performed their duties well. As for the food, she had magic, for Underground's sake! She could change its temperature on her own, or add condiments to make it 'tasty enough.' No one should tell him how to command his own kingdom, for he manages it well himself.

But nothing could top the unfortunate goblin who spilled Bog Water on his expensive boots. The miserable cretin was not looking at where he was going, and, like the clumsy oaf it was, tripped over thin air, the vile contents of his mug flying everywhere. The other goblins immediately fell on their knees and lapped at the liquid with their own tongues. Needless to say, it had been a disgusting sight.

He had to throw away a perfectly good pair of boots custom-made for kicking his witless subjects. No punishment would be suitable enough.

The sharp tang of brandy did its job at calming him down. Propping his feet up on the table, he wondered if it was too early for a visit from 'Mr. Owl.' It was rather refreshing to be with someone who expected nothing from him, only his friendship.

How low had he sunk if his happiness depended on a mere little child!

"When are you going to tell me, Jareth?"

He sat upright, not realizing that he wasn't alone in the room.

Sarah was sitting on one of the massive chairs. She was so small that one couldn't help but overlook her presence. In front of her was a huge book, and the stuffed toy he'd given her on her first day in the Underground. She was looking at him, eyes owlish and unblinking. Waiting for his answer.

"Tell you what?" he asked back warily.

"About my new friend," she replied, walking to stand before him. "And where he came from. Are you going to turn me into a goblin if you get tired of me too?"

The opened door, the odd sense of being watched earlier…

He frowned.

"You've been eavesdropping."

She lifted her chin up in defense at the reprimanding note in his voice.

"Yes," she admitted. "And she sounded sincere."

"Who?"

"Alistair's mother. Why didn't you give her another chance?"

He had, but…

"You wouldn't understand." He refrained from adding _because you're just a child._ It wouldn't sit well with her.

"Then make me understand," Sarah looked at him in the eye, and her vulnerable expression reminded him that, despite how she acted, she was still very young. _Just a little girl._ "Tell me why a mother should be taken away from its child, from the person she had raised from birth and loved with all her heart? Why must - "

Jareth stood up, suddenly realizing why she was so upset.

"Dammit, Sarah! That woman is not your mother!"

Silence.

"I know," she whispered. Her gaze dropped to the ground, screening her eyes from his view. "I know."

"The world is not as good as you think, Sarah," his voice sounded harsh to his own ears. "Sometimes there are no rainbows at the end of the rain. No sun behind dark clouds, and all the other sayings you humans think of to raise silly hopes that would surely be dashed. People get hurt all the time. People do bad things, terrible deeds, and you have to look really deeply in order to see if they possess an ounce of good in them."

He wondered if she knew that he was talking about himself.

"I know that too, Jareth," she replied softly. "But given the choice, would you like to focus on the bad stuff and be sad, or focus on the good stuff and be happy, even without rainbows or sun shining behind the clouds?"

He had no answer for that.

"I wish you told me sooner," she continued. "About the Goblin King. Did you think that just because I was a child, I wouldn't understand? Don't you see? I _trust_ you."

The implicit statement was filled with sincerity, spoken straight from the heart.

She stared at the bottle on top of the table.

"Mummy also drank before she tried to hit me." Her tone was blank; her eyes were unseeing as she clutched the stuffed animal closer to her. "Are you going to hit me too, Mr. Goblin King sir? Because I eavesdropped? You told me that people do bad things, and I have to look really deep to see the good in them. Won't you hitting me because I did something bad count as a good thing?"

She knew that he would never raise a hand on her because she _trusted _him. But he needed to trust her too, and keep no more secrets between themselves.

Her lack of reaction frightened him, an emotion he was not used to. He did not want to face her, to see the accusation blazing in her eyes, to hear the condemnation in her voice that he so rightly deserved.

More importantly, he did not want to see her hurt.

Not for the first time, he blamed himself for letting her get close to him, as he had never allowed anyone to do before.

Because when she hurt, he felt that he was hurting too.

* * *

Long after Sarah had left, he sat there, contemplating the full flask of brandy in his hands. He swirled the contents with the tip of his finger slowly. Try as he might, he couldn't take a sip whenever he brought the flask to his lips. Her lost expression swimmed into his mind's eye every time he did. He now realize how pointless it was: drinking and ranting inwardly, doing nothing to solve the problems at hand.

So lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear the doors open.

"That didn't work out quite as well as you would like, don't you think?" a voice remarked.

Jareth didn't look up to acknowledge the interrupter.

"Leave me be, old man," he replied. He wasn't surprised that the geezer knew what had happened already. His omniscience never failed to irk him. "Let me wallow in my solitude. Alone, and without the 'benefit' of your bothersome company."

Eldred sat on a chair next to him and examined the Goblin King through his spectacles and steepled fingers.

"My boy, are you not familiar with the human saying that 'no man is an island'?"

"I'm in no mood to cross words with you," Jareth growled.

"Frankly, I fail to see your dilemma. Why don't you go talk to her and discuss the misunderstandings between yourselves?"

"I already did that, and you know how well it turned out."

"In my opinion," the sage commented. "Both of your judgments were clouded by hazy emotions in the duration of your conversation. I'm certain that all will come to rights when you deal with this in clear, level-headed minds and consciences."

"Hmm," he said noncommittally. It annoyed him how _right _the old man always sounds.

"I mean it Jareth," Eldred said seriously. "Sarah is a precocious child, so like yourself when you were young. I know that I failed to see that in you before. Please don't make the same mistake I did with you, son."

Jareth met the elder man's eyes – so much like his own – and saw the remorse and guilt reflected in them.

He smiled bitterly, reminded of memories better left forgotten.

"Yes, Father."

* * *

Bet you didn't expect that! I've been bursting to tell ever since I introduced Eldred. And yes, it was Marigold who put the idea into Sarah's head to go eavesdrop at the throne room. Sarah is just a child after all. And children are sometimes curious to a fault, no matter how precocious. Next chapter would be about Hoggle, a grandmother, and a little bit of reconciliation. Please review!

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	11. Chapter 11

Here it is! Sorry if the writing seems a bit hurried. I'm not feeling well right now.

* * *

"I tol' yeh 'e's up to no good," her acerbic companion declared. "Scratch t'at. He ain't good at all. Not a tizzy."

Hoggle, garden shears in hand, snipped at the shrub a little too vindictively, making Sarah edge back surreptitiously, away from the metal's reach, unsure of the handler's current temperament. She was in her friend's little garden patch – helping him prune his plants.

"I-I think it's my fault, Hoggle"

He snorted derisively in response.

Days had passed since the misunderstanding in the library. She didn't have the chance to talk to the Goblin King after that. Rosalie told her that he was busy with his 'kingly duties,' but Sarah had a sinking feeling that he was avoiding her.

The little girl sighed, and stared glumly at the weed in her hand. It was a withered thing; amidst the beautiful flowers, it stood out horribly – a pest stunting the growth of the healthy plants. But it was only trying to survive.

"Nonsense," he grunted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Yer' just a kid. No one can blame ye' fer' being a tad curious. He should've told ye in the firs' place."

Sarah watched as he dropped the shears in the rusty wheelbarrow where his other tools were placed. Picking up his much beloved spray gun, he wielded it with the expertise of a past master, driving away the tiny, pesky fairies flying their way to take shelter on his precious flowers. She once made the mistake of touching their colorful wings – despite Hoggle's warnings – and ended up with a nasty bite on her finger. Her hand still throbbed whenever she thought of their sharp teeth.

"Ye shouldn't be too' bother'd 'bout it," he continued, humping smugly as yet another fairy got splashed with the mysterious liquid in his spray. "Jareth's nothin' but a fine-dressed dandy who wouldn't know the truth if it hit 'im wit' the force of one of 'em Tunnel Cleaners. Vicious things, they are."

She tilted her head consideringly, taking in his too-tight grip, his averted eyes, and the fine tension between his shoulder blades.

"You don't like Jareth," she surmised.

The dwarf rolled his eyes.

"Gee, was I that obvious?" he muttered sarcastically.

"Why don't you like him?"

"Don' wanna talk 'bout it."

"Friends don't keep secrets from each other. 'Sides, tellin' about it might make you feel better, I think."

Hoggle lowered the spray gun, an unusual lighthearted feeling churning in his chest. _Friend. She actually considered him as her friend, _he thought disbelievingly. _What madness!_

Still, his free hand drifted involuntarily to the plastic bracelet hidden under his grimy sleeves.

Maybe he didn't mind it so much.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't like it," she added hastily. "Friends don't make friends uncomfortable. I'll just…stop bothering you and pull these weeds."

Hoggle guiltily noticed her somber expression. He wasn't being much of a friend to her, was he?

But he had the power to change that.

"But friends need trust to be good friends, don' they?"

The little girl shot him a happy, surprised glance. He gave himself a mental pat on the back, oddly pleased that he was the one who had caused it.

"I might've learn'd a thing or two 'bout friendship," he said reluctantly. "From sum'one I thought was me friend once."

"Really? How come you're no longer friends with your friend now?"

Hoggle shot her an exasperated glare.

"Yer' suppos'd to ask me who it was, not how, and then I'll pour out the whol' sob story," he complained. "Ain't that the way it goes in them fairy-tales?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." Sheepishly, she paused, and asked in a dramatic tone, "Really? Who? It was Jareth, wasn't it?"

"Aye, lass," he agreed succinctly. He suddenly became silent, and Sarah got the feeling that he was lost in his memories.

What were they like? She thought. Did they plant in Hoggle's garden, or play with the teddy bear Lancelot? Did they ever get lost in the labyrinth, and get caught in the oubliettes? How come they never do those things now?

She mourned silently for what might have been such a wonderful friendship.

"But something happened," Sarah prompted. A statement rather than a question.

Hoggle turned his solemn eyes on her.

"Aye, lass. Sum'thin' happen'd." He dug his hands in his pockets and kicked a pebble at his feet angrily. "His Highheadedness started ignorin' me."

"Why?"

"Damned if I know," he gave a small, apologetic shrug. "Ye have te' ask 'im that. Suppos'd he was ashamed o' me, the li'l country bumpkin," Hoggle spat bitterly. "He was the prince. I was a nobody who he prol'y took his damn pity on."

Sarah frowned. That didn't sound like the Goblin King at all. She knew that the fact that Hoggle was a mere peasant would not have bothered him. Jareth was friends with her, wasn't he? And not only was she not of nobility, she was not an Undergrounder as well. Worst, she was _human. _And the little girl was aware that there were some Fae people who had racial prejudices on her kind.

Something had happened to force him to end his friendship with Hoggle, that much she was sure. But what?

"I think you haven't learned your lesson completely, Hoggle," she said quietly.

He was perplexed. "What lesson?"

"The one you told me earlier. About friendship. Maybe you two didn't trust each other enough. Maybe you'd still be friends if you did."

* * *

"Here, little Sarah. Let me get it for you."

"No, I'm a lot thinner. Let me get it for her."

"You won't be able to climb that tree. You'd be blown by the wind! I'll do it."

"No, I'll do it."

_"I'll _do it."

"If you would just-"

"Let me-"

Sarah watched in confusion as the two boys argued over who would be the one to climb up the tree and get the last apple. Toby, in his valiant, chivalrous manner, told her that no force on earth would stop him from retrieving the prize and lay it at her feet; while Alistair, in a decidedly quieter tone, promised that he would get it first to present it to her.

She wondered if she should tell them that she didn't like apples that much.

The four of them were resting under the shade of a tree in a meadow just beyond the Castle Garden. It was late afternoon – the sun's rays glowing deep orange as it cast its last tendrils for the day on the earth's surface.

Beside her, a girl with hair as bright as the setting sun laughed at the boys' antics.

"You have to give it to both of them," she praised. "They sure are persistent. I think Toby's feeling threatened now that Alistair is here. The rivalry between them is so cute!"

Persistent? Threatened? At What?

Sophia saw her puzzled expression.

"Isn't it obvious? They're crushing on you."

Sarah frowned.

"They shouldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Won't it hurt?" Sarah winced, as Toby fell from a branch, dragging Alistair with him. Luckily, the branch was low and the soft grass was there to cushion their fall. "Sophia, whatever 'crushing' is, you should make them stop."

Her friend gave her such a look that made her think that she had said something inane – like suggesting that clouds were actually big pieces of cotton candy, for instance.

Quite unexpectedly, Sophia burst into a fit of giggles again.

"What? What'd I say?"

"You-you don't know, do you?" she asked in between snickers. "Is the world coming to an end? Could it be that Silly Sophia knows something that the Great Little Sarah does not? Oh, this is too precious!"

"In my opinion," the smaller girl replied in defense. "Silly Sophia doesn't make any sense to Little Sarah at the moment."

Sophia reached forward and mussed up the other girl's hair, much to her protest.

"I'll tell you when you're older," she said mock-condescendingly, suppressing a chuckle.

Sarah had lost count on how many times adults had told her that particular phrase. And every one of them was as frustrating as the last one. She plopped back on the tree trunk, miffed.

"You know what? I don't want to know."

"Ah, Little Sarah. Whether you like it or not, you will know one day."

After those ominous-sounding words, both girls lapsed into a companionable silence, amusing themselves with the sight of the boys rolling on the grass, now engaged in a wrestling match.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sophia observed her friend closely. She hadn't known the beautiful little girl for quite long, but she had noticed that her peculiar eyes tend to change colors to suit her mood. For the past few days, those eyes had been the same perpetual blue that seems to speak of silent griefs and hidden sorrows.

"What's the matter Sarah?" she asked, serious for once. "You look…what was the word you told me? _Melancholic_."

She heaved a sigh, which further strengthened Sophia's worry that something was bothering her friend.

The redhead remembered her first days here in the Goblin City, after being wished away by her grandfather, the only living relative she had. She had been stubborn, and threw tantrums that had tested even Rosalie's saint-like patience. Sophia had refused to be cajoled out of her misery at being torn away from the world she was familiar with, and told herself that nothing in the Underground could make her happy again.

Until that fateful day in the garden when she had met Sarah.

She still cringed at remembering how she had gotten Sarah into trouble. Sophia had been delighted at the prospect of a new friend, especially a human one, that she overlooked how foolish it was to journey the Labyrinth alone. How thankful she was that her new friend got out unscathed! The redhead couldn't forgive herself if something happened to her.

Needless to say, the princess had been nothing but nice and thoughtful to her, and now, Sophia could return the favor.

"You don't miss much, do you, Silly Sophia?" she asked teasingly. Growing more somber, she continued, "Would you be mad if someone's been keeping secrets from you?"

Jolted out of her musings, it took a while before she could answer.

"I don't expect everyone I meet to blurt out their secrets to me, of course," she replied. "Is that it?"

"That's not what I meant," Sarah corrected herself. "What if a loved one of yours was keeping secrets from you? For your own sake?"

Sophia's mind wandered to a little red-haired girl playing with an elderly man with jovial eyes. She remembered the girl who loved her grandpapa's custard creams so much that she used to sneak into the pantry to snatch a few pieces before dinner. Her grandpapa found out, of course, but he only gave the girl a big hug and made her more treats, laughing at his granddaughter's mischief. They were so happy together, until…

Until a _secret_ broke them apart.

"Everyone has a right to keep secrets, I think," she replied carefully. "But if involved me in some way or another, I believe I need to know, right? So it might not hurt to ask."

Sarah smiled, and the spell of solemnity dissolved into their earlier lighthearted banter.

"Well, well, well. It seems that Silly Sophia isn't so silly as she seems to be."

Sophia grinned back.

"Had the Great Little Sarah sunk so low as to ask Silly Sophia for advice?"

"I'm afraid so." Glancing to where the boys were still roughshoding, she continued, "But Little Sarah has to acknowl'dge that there is verity in Silly Sophia's words."

"Verity? What kind of six-year old uses such a highfalutin' word?"

The younger girl rolled her eyes.

"Kidding aside, thanks for the advice, Sophia."

She would do anything for the princess! But such an outright declaration of devotion might disconcert her friend a bit.

Holding her silence, she only said, "No prob, Sarah. No prob."

* * *

Sarah had just opened her bedroom door to get ready for bed when a very familiar silhouette spread its shadowy wings and prepared to take off in flight.

"Oh, Mr. Owl!" she called out, tripping over her own feet as she dashed to the windowsill in a hurry. "Oh, please, _please_ don't leave me!"

Her friend stopped and swiveled its head to where she was. His big, bulbous eyes were luminous in the dark, glowing with a thousand emotions she could not put a name to.

"I will have a (1)hole in my heart if you leave me," she whispered quietly. "Will you have a hole in your heart too if I leave, Mr. Owl?"

He tilted his head, the majestic wings unfurled on his back blending it with the colors of the night. For a fraught moment she thought that he would ignore her plea and leave.

Then he lowered his wings and turned fully to face her.

Sarah let out a breath of relief.

"I've been a very bad girl, Mr. Owl," she confessed softly. "I know I shouldn't have eavesdropped. I know I shouldn't have listened to Mari-flower when she told me to…"

She didn't see how his eyes flash in realization as she shared everything that had happed starting with the conversation with Marigold, the Throne Room, talking to the Goblin King, and the advice of Hoggle and Sophia.

"…It's all my fault," she said sadly. "If I hadn't done that and ask Jareth directly, none of this would've happened. But there's no use 'crying over spilt milk,' is there?"

"I think Jareth's mad at me," she peeked at her immobile friend from under her lashes uncertainly. "Are you mad at me too, Mr. Owl?"

The animal gave a low, mournful hoot as if to say, "No. Why would I be?"

Little Sarah smiled, glad to have told her friend. Already she could feel the unease inside her fade away, making her feel better.

"You're right, Mr. Owl," she said, her resolve strengthening. "I should go talk to him and say sorry. I wish it were that easy, though. I haven't seen him around. Do you think he's avoiding me?"

He head-butted her arm gently, apparently informing her that such an idea was ludicrous.

"You're very wise, Mr. Owl," she told him admiringly. "How had I manage before without you?"

He hooted faintly again, and this time she thought that it was of amused sarcasm.

Sarah raised her hand, and caressed the soft feathers of his left wing.

She was glad that he at least, hadn't lost his trust in her.

* * *

He was standing silently, from atop one of the castle's many towers, observing the dawn waltzing in slowly but gracefully across his wide lands. His domain.

Faint, hurried footsteps roused him out of his reverie, and he turned to see who it was.

Hopeful blue eyes gazed up at him beseechingly, and without warning, she flung her arms around his midriff tightly. Quiet, sincere words reached him, but even muted by his velveteen cloak, he heard them clearly.

_"I'm_ _sorry."_

Both needed no more words, because the silence was enough to assure them that no matter what happens, all would be right again.

* * *

I hadn't realized that Mr. Owl had not made an appearance in the past chapters. He would be quite disgruntled if I didn't include him.

(1) The 'hole in my heart' quote is not mine. It actually belongs to my 3 year old sister, Zyra (Pic in profile). She once said to my mother, "Zyra will have hole in her heart if mama's not there to kiss boo-boo away." After much 'aww!' and 'how cute!' my little sister finally got the _Dora the Explorer _plush toy she wanted. It amuses and scares me how manipulative she could be. Zyra inspired much of Little Sarah's characterization. As far as I know, 'Zyra' is a variant of the name 'Sarah.' Coincidence, huh?

And Monday is her very first day at school. I'm excited. And nervous. Not for her, but for her future classmates and teachers. They haven't seen the likes of 'Hurricane Zyra' yet.


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